Who Do I Sue?
Who do I sue?
My personality has never been described as happy-go-lucky. I’ve never been a little ray of sunshine. Since I was a kid, I’ve dealt with dark moods and anxieties. They go way back. But they didn’t really come into full bloom until I entered junior high school (it’s called middle school now, for you kiddies). Martin Luther King Jr. Junior High School. That extra “junior” always makes me think of Robin Williams’ joke about Sammy Davis Jr. having a son called Sammy David Jr. Jr., but I digress.
The school was the type of building that the Soviets blighted their cities with: a blocky utilitarian construction made of light brown brick. And it was windowless. Windowless! Who do I sue?
What were they thinking? They were thinking “windows can be looked out of, and that is distracting, so we will raise a nation of Einsteins by teaching them in windowless warehouses.” They were asking “did Einstein go to a school without windows? Can someone look that up?”. And they were thinking “we can save a boatload on glass.”
Or, more likely, they weren’t thinking at all.
My elementary school was an ugly, squat building, but the classrooms had windows. Windows that could be opened. My high school was ugly and had the privilege of being run-down, but it too had windows of the opening variety. The junior high school had some very small, thin windows around the lobby doors. And, in one of the stairwells, it had a window covering made of opaque yellow plexiglass. In the winter, it was possible to leave for school before it was truly light and head home as twilight came on. And without any time during the day to get outside. No recess. Physical Education held in the gym. No daylight time. And, need I add, that sickly yellowish flourescent lighting in every classroom and hallway.
So you probably won’t be surprised to hear that my dislike of school grew to a loathing of school. Before, I’d just been a bit bored. Now, my mood plummeted like one of those raggedy medicine balls we were pummeled with in gym class. My attention in class was often very low, my clock-watching became chronic, and I think it was only low academic standards that kept my grades in the good category. I would fidget my way through most classes, sit with absolute incomprehension in geometry class, and wish with all of my heart that some classrooms would simply vanish from the face of the planet (a big shout-out to the foreign language labs and a bigger shout out to my stunningly dull French teacher).
When I look back at my years in school, I mostly remember not particularly enjoying it. But when I think back to the three years in that windowless monstrosity, I have a much more visceral reaction. My stomach cramps, my head starts to ache and a feeling of more-than-vague unease overtakes me. Even the good parts are overshadowed with memories of the nicotine-yellow lighting that never quite shoved the darkness away.
Here I am more than a quarter of a century later: a successful guy with a beautiful wife and a wonderful dog; a guy who gets to draw and create stuff that he enjoys; and a guy whose loft has an incredible view of the incomparable Austin, Texas. And the shadow of that windowless building still hangs over all that. Even I think that sounds a bit silly when I say it, but then I get that feeling that accompanies the memories and it doesn’t feel silly at all.
No one put the name Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) to depression caused by lack of natural light until 1984. But the correlation between poor lighting conditions and emotional problems has been around for a while: the 6th century scholar Jordanes described how the Scandinavians were a pretty morose bunch from living so far above the equator. I suppose the P.G. County school board was simply too stupid and budget-driven to pay attention. Thanks, guys.
So why am I writing this? I’m wondering if anyone else went through similar educational (or even work) experiences and has noticed similar things. I’m hoping that talking about it will aid, however slightly, the abolition of these schools (seriously, I hope they bulldoze all these buildings and salt the earth around them, especially considering that hideous Junior High of mine continues its infernal operations).
And I’m an American. I’m hoping someone will tell me who I can sue.