Senior, Jamari Murphy, as a child, posing for a photo. Photo by Jamari Murphy.
Stepping into a first grade classroom in 2013 was like entering a world of wonder and color.
The smile on my teacher’s face glistened as I took a slow look around the room. The walls practically glowed with bright posters of the alphabet scattered all around. Cheerful borders framed glittering bulletin boards, covered in art projects made by tiny hands. Cubbies lined one side of the room, each labeled with names carefully written in crayon-colored letters.
I can still feel the nostalgia of my bookbag swinging beside my SpongeBob lunch box, both hanging proudly in my cubby.
High school, on the other hand, was a world of freedom, but also one of cold hallways and silent stares. The walls were filled with art, the lockers green dented and dull. Teachers rarely smiled like my first-grade teachers did. Everyone walked fast, earbuds in, heads down, more focused on getting through the day than soaking it in. No colorful posters, no glitter, no giggles. Just a countdown to 4:15.
Highschool wasn’t bad, just not what I expected from the movies.
