The smell of school is chalk and Lysol. It is sweaty boys and girls. It is leaves rotting in the gutters someone put up back when they had money to pay the janitors to do more than just empty the trash cans at the end of each day. It is moldy air blown out and windows painted shut. It is years of urine puddling on the floor - years.
The smell lets me know I am here again, after so many years of being away. I am walking my son down the hallway, down which I used to run, and then get chastised by the efficient sixth-grade safety patrol who seemed so powerful and threatening to me - then. I tower over her, now. She smells of bubble gum and her lips shine as she greets me earnestly.
The campus hasn't changed much. The playground is still overgrown with Bahia grass which will make me sneeze when the wind blows its pollen up my nose. The windows are still painted shut - to keep the conditioned air in or out.
Will my son suffer from the same allergies? Allergic to pollen. Allergic to chalk dust. Allergic to the moldy leaves.
Allergic to the safety patrol who cornered me in the bathroom every day after school.
"I can smell fear on you" she said, or maybe what she smelled was the powerful smell of urine - running down my legs, soaking my socks and shoes, puddling on the floor around me as she went through my lunch box and threatened to tell my mother what a nasty little girl I was "making me do those things to you. You'd better not tell" she threatened, "or they'll send you away."
Away is where I finally escaped after my mother got tired of washing the stench out of my clothes and leaving my shoes in the sun to dry - which they never did. Away to another school, one that didn't have safety patrols. One that paid their janitors to do more than just empty trash cans at the end of each day.
But, I've returned. Voluntarily, it seems, to deposit my son into the hands of the system. And the safety guard smacks her gum, and says "Good morning!" as we pass her by. I thought they'd banned chewing gum from the school grounds. It is too hard for the janitors to remove.
The smell lets me know I am here again, after so many years of being away. I am walking my son down the hallway, down which I used to run, and then get chastised by the efficient sixth-grade safety patrol who seemed so powerful and threatening to me - then. I tower over her, now. She smells of bubble gum and her lips shine as she greets me earnestly.
The campus hasn't changed much. The playground is still overgrown with Bahia grass which will make me sneeze when the wind blows its pollen up my nose. The windows are still painted shut - to keep the conditioned air in or out.
Will my son suffer from the same allergies? Allergic to pollen. Allergic to chalk dust. Allergic to the moldy leaves.
Allergic to the safety patrol who cornered me in the bathroom every day after school.
"I can smell fear on you" she said, or maybe what she smelled was the powerful smell of urine - running down my legs, soaking my socks and shoes, puddling on the floor around me as she went through my lunch box and threatened to tell my mother what a nasty little girl I was "making me do those things to you. You'd better not tell" she threatened, "or they'll send you away."
Away is where I finally escaped after my mother got tired of washing the stench out of my clothes and leaving my shoes in the sun to dry - which they never did. Away to another school, one that didn't have safety patrols. One that paid their janitors to do more than just empty trash cans at the end of each day.
But, I've returned. Voluntarily, it seems, to deposit my son into the hands of the system. And the safety guard smacks her gum, and says "Good morning!" as we pass her by. I thought they'd banned chewing gum from the school grounds. It is too hard for the janitors to remove.
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