We Are the Cattle Drive

   I hate school so, so much. Don't get me wrong, I love learning, I absolutely love wielding knowledge as a weapon against the uneducated masses. It makes me feel powerful. But I hate, hate, hate having to get up at some ungodly hour to go some place with mediocre food and mediocre people. Yeah, I like a lot of the people I encounter there; they're not the mediocre ones. The mediocre ones are the middle-aged college drop-outs that get some sort of adrenaline rush by ordering around children less than half their age. They let the fragile whisp of power go to their heads.
   I find it kind of funny that they think they have some sort of authority over us. Really, if they tell us to do something we could just walk away. The only obligation we have is to show up at that hell hole every day. But it's not like any of us will go against them for fear of being inconvenienced. If anything, I'm afraid of being reprimanded by the grade-level principal or the head honcho of the entire organization: the actual high school-high school principal. You know, the one in charge of all four grade levels.
   But back to the subject of this entry, so boldly stated in the title, the part of school life that I absolutely hate the most is the fact that we are herded to and fro like mindless cattle. Passing through the front door you find yourself in the reception area. There's a huge, cubicle-esque desk in the middle of the room that's usually operated by two people at a time, and if you come in late you have to wait for them to buzz you into the actual school, a fairly recent addition to the security processes that were placed into action immediately following an attempted school shooting. When you walk by the sometimes friendly/sometimes cold receptionists and step into the foyer you are faced with a giant staircase leading up to the second of two floors. On either side of the staircase is an entrance to the cafeteria.
   When we first enter the building in the morning, if we set foot in the foyer at or after 7:10, the sheepdogs nip at our ankles and push us in through the door on the right side. This is a problem because there are roughly 2400 students in our school being shoved into this one room. Everyone congregates in the doorways and the path leading to the other door on the left side. I prefer entering through the left door because that's where all of my friends congregate. When I have to fight my way past a good chunk of the herd that consists of knucklehead wannabes that literally will not move until you start yelling, it just ruins my day. In the morning I just want to veg out for twenty minutes before my first class so I can drift into first period with a starting sense of peace and serenity. I'd rather not spend it facing the shameful and demeaning reality of the present state of the once promising and openly rebellious youth.
   It really makes me wonder just how much power those precious few cafeteria aides actually have compared to us, and whether or not anybody else realizes it's just one poorly defended argument or act of tyranny that could set each one of us over the edge... Frightening, but also kind of comforting. I am not an animal, and while I still allow myself to be treated like one since I'm a minor and I have no say, it makes me feel better to know that no matter what happens, I can always defend myself. I mean, good always triumphs over evil, right? If a situation calls for violence, I can rise to the occasion. But really, I only will if I know it's the only way to protect myself, or if I know I can win.~~