By Cora Contrabida
October 7, 2010, 4:00 pm
Gray skies today. Just my thing. My alarm clock is ringing off the hook. Annoying. I groggily roll over to hit the snooze button, but I happen to glance at the time. 7:00? My first period starts in half an hour. Great. I start the day rushing. Not like it makes a difference or anything…
Amazingly, I show up at school with 15 minutes to spare. That’s me. Crammer extraordinaire. I approach the main gate, unzipping my bag as I do so. You have to hand it to the security here at XU. Never underestimate the power of the stick. The device in the guard’s hand is deceptively simple, but it’s high-end technology like you’ve never seen it.
I watch in awe as the guard jams it in my bag, with not so much as a glance at the contents. Students whiz through the gate. Jam. Jam. Jam. Bag after bag is inspected by the stick. Two seconds and it’s over. My stuff has just been cleared of anything potentially hazardous to the XU community. (Like my brother’s stinky socks might have found their way into my things, I mean, who knows?)
Before I can kneel at the guard’s feet and marvel, I realize that I am almost late.
I rush up six series of ramps because apparently, elevators are only for the teachers’ use (they pay really big tuition too, so of course, I completely understand). Some elevators look like they’re just there on display. That’s alright. I just love getting mini heart attacks after climbing six series of ramps. (I think they’re conspiring to turn the school into a museum for old elevators one day, but that’s just me.)
Finally! I am on the sixth floor. And the door to my classroom is… locked. But I have 10 minutes left before the first bell rings! 10 minutes! Oh, right. I’ve I heard that some teachers do that. Makes sense to lock the doors to teach latecomers a lesson. Makes perfect sense. It’s 7:20 am. Some of us might live in a backwards world where coming to class 10 minutes early is punishable.
Dejected at having missed my first period (or not really), I slide down the ramps, make my way to the XU canteen and get myself a torta cake. It looks older than my Granddad’s shoe collection, but it tastes great. Nothing like shoe-collection torta in the morning. It even has a complimentary fly or two in it. Yum. I take my breakfast to the nearest table, but my nostrils are acting up. There’s a canal next to me, and phew, the smell is just…heavenly. I wonder what it’s doing there. Oh, I know. This must be a new tactic they’re using to fight overcrowding at the canteen. Awesome.
In a couple of minutes, I make my way to my other classes. One of them is smack in the middle of what used to be the STC lobby. The noise makes for great ambiance. My teacher’s mouth is moving, but all I hear are FS students screaming something about iced tea discounts. God, I feel like a hamster. In a cardboard box. At least hamsters have the wheel thingies. And food. Could I at least have that iced tea they’re yelling about?
By the end of class, I’m clutching at my stomach. The torta must have caused some extreme medical complication (I really don’t know, maybe that fly was still alive after all), and I decide to go to the clinic. The bad news is, on arriving there, they tell me that they’ve already served their quota of six people per day, and taking me in would be bad for their reputation. Six people, lady. No more. I mean, I know I’m being dramatic, but I could be dying from shoe-collection torta sickness or something. Go on, prioritize the guy with the toothache. I totally understand.
I’d run to the bathroom, but I know for a fact that a lot of toilets in XU have a schedule for when they’re working or not. Today is Wednesday. That’s no-water-for-flushing-the-toilet day.
So apparently I have to go home and evacuate (if you get my meaning, shame if you don’t).
Whew. That was close. I’m feeling nostalgic so I spend the remaining hours watching the sun set from the soccerfield. It doesn’t matter that the buildings are blocking my view. Or that I must look like a soccer goal post or something, because the ball keeps aiming for my face. There are mosquitoes dancing on my head. I’m on lovers’ lane without a lover, but I sigh happily.
I love this place.
It’s just another day in XU.
Source: Keep the Change (August 2010 Issue)
