A STUDENT'S VIEW OF SCHOOL

By Thomas Krehbiel

No sun dared shine through the thick gray blanket of clouds

as Tim waited at the road's edge for the yellow monster to take him
to the forbidding dungeon of school. A light drizzle fell
oppressively, adding still more dreariness to the chill autumn
temperatures of the morning. Tim stood fixed, not without a
certain amount of fear, holding his books tightly in one hand and
watching the hilltop for the inevitable arrival of the dreaded minion
of school.

A few minutes later it appeared. The beast surfaced above

the horizon; a huge, reptilian yellow-orange monstrosity with
powerful legs drawing it to a stop atop the hill. Rows of wooden
seats were strapped along its back on which other students like
Tim sat fearfully, clutching at the monster's scales to steady
themselves against its rocky gait. A bit and bridle attached the
reptile's loathsome, toothy head to its rider -- a small, black-
cloaked mercenary astride the creature's long, wiry neck. The
monster let out a piercing roar at the sight of Tim and lurched
forward down the track toward him, yellow teeth bared
menacingly.

Tim stepped back involuntarily from the repulsive beast as

it lumbered to a stop next to him. He hesitated, fearing the evil
eyes that peered from the creature's skull, but soon he clambered
onto the lizard's back at the urgings of the mercenary's leather
whip. He found a seat among the other students, who, as always,
sat rigidly facing forward with pale faces and wide eyes, like a
congregation of corpses. It was the ritual torture of school that had

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begun again as the beast started forward, howling as it sighted
another student-victim nearby.

Tim watched with a mixture of awe and terror as the school

building itself came into view. A moat, bisected by a single
guarded drawbridge, surrounded the dark stone block castle, its
murky waters churning as if Hell itself lay beneath its surface. A
square guard tower rose to the misty sky at each of the four corners
of the citadel, with two matching, but smaller, towers on either side
of the iron gate that led to the courtyard within. Few windows
appeared in the blackened stone, and those that did were only in
the corner guard towers high above the ground to prevent a student
from escaping that way. School officials took no chances with
students, and to this day no one had ever escaped, despite repeated
attempts.

The beast crossed the drawbridge carefully, its massive

weight drawing creaks and groans from the ancient wood, stopping
on the other side some yards from the entrance. Even it did not
dare wander too near to the dreaded castle. One by one, the
students filed off the creature's back to stand before the twenty-
foot high gateway. The yellow monster roared again and ambled
away, leaving the students alone at the mercy of the school. A
hunched, deformed humanoid dressed in dirty and torn clothes
hobbled into view on the other side of the gate, where it cranked a
huge wheel in great agony. The gate creaked open slowly,
allowing the students to sluggishly enter the inner courtyard. Once
inside, they were sealed for the duration of the day as the portcullis
slammed down again with an iron clank.

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 Tim crossed the courtyard, a large square patch of dying
grass bordered on all sides by unscaleable stone walls, with the
other students until they reached the brass-bound oaken inner door
that led to the school proper. A minute later, it swung open with a
creak, unbarred from the inside by another disfigured servant. The
pitiful looking person waved them inside with a skeletal arm.

The door clicked shut again and the bar was replaced, the
noise echoing eerily down the seemingly endless torch lit hall in
which they now stood. At regular intervals, wooden doors and
other corridors branched off of the main hallway, each leading to a
classroom. Tim sighed and walked through the maze of corridors
until he found the room where he belonged, and turned the door
handle.

It was locked.

In horror, Tim realized that the locked door meant he was

late for class. And, even more terrifying, in his depressed state he
had forgotten to go to the throne room and get a note from the king
signifying that the yellow beast was late and therefore responsible.
He shuddered at the thought of what the teacher might do to him if
he was in a bad mood this morning. But maybe, Tim thought,
brightening somewhat, the teacher hadn't heard him try to open the
door, and he could go to the king now and get the note. With new
hope that he would survive to see the next dreary day, he started
off toward the throne room.

Not more than two steps down the hall, Tim heard the door
flung open and a voice boom, "Where are you going, student!"
Tim turned slowly, his heart leaping to his throat, to see a very
angry-looking teacher. The black-clad man towered over Tim,
peering at him with dark eyes that pierced right through his soul.

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He waved a thick and sharply pointed stick in one hand that he
thrust accusingly at Tim. "Trying to skip my class?"

"N-No, Sir, I--" Tim stuttered, finding his tongue strangely

glued to the inside of his mouth.

"No excuses, scum!" the teacher growled, reaching out with

a massive arm and grabbing Tim's shirt. With little pleasantness,
the teacher drug Tim into the classroom and nearly flung him to
the floor, scattering books everywhere. Students sat at desks
throughout the room, all of whom were looking fearfully from the
teacher to Tim and back again. "Why were you late, you inferior
bug? And don't lie to me or I'll have you flogged!"

"I...well, the beast was--" Tim started.

"Get in your desk! I don't want to hear your whining." The

teacher turned back to the blackboard at the front of the class.

Gathering his books hurriedly, Tim scrambled back to his

seat, where he immediately sat attentively as the teacher continued
his lesson for the day. A few minutes later, when the teacher asked
them to open their books, Tim realized with a start that he didn't
have his textbook with him. He mentally kicked himself, knowing
that if the teacher found out, he would be done for. Being spoken
to twice in one day was grounds for the dungeon. Still, there was
always the chance that he wouldn't be called on.

"Tim! What's the answer to the first question in your

textbook?" the teacher's voice rung out across the class, startling
Tim into alertness. His smile was sinister, as if he knew that Tim
was in trouble.

"I...uh...don't have my book," Tim said weakly.

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 The teacher's face turned crimson with anger and Tim was
sure he saw smoke wisp from his ears. The room became so silent
a mouse could be heard whispering in the corner.

"You what?!" the teacher finally exploded, picking up a

paperweight skull from his desk and flinging it Tim, hitting a
nearby student instead. Tim shrunk back in terror, knowing things
would not be pleasant after this.

"Get up here!" the teacher shouted, his hand twitching in

rage.

Tim hesitantly stood and walked forward slowly, his head

bowed in fear. When he was in range, the teacher violently struck
him across the face with his pointer, sending Tim sprawling.

"Get up!"

Feeling warm blood running down his cheek, Tim

staggered to his feet in a daze, trying to remain upright as he
confronted the enraged teacher. The black pedagogue snatched
Tim by the collar and pulled him off his feet.

"Now, miserable student," he hissed, barely containing his

anger, "you're going to rot in the dungeon until you learn the
meaning of the word discipline!"

With that, he drug Tim to the door, opened it, and threw
Tim headlong into the hallway. The door slammed closed behind
him with a resounding crash.

It was a long walk from the classroom to the dungeon.

There was no use in resisting the teacher's judgment; if he ran
away, he would be found and dragged there by force. Tim nearly

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crawled, trying to delay the agony as long as possible. No one
occupied the hall -- everyone was either a student, a teacher, or a
malformed servant, none of whom roamed about during class time.
Torches set in sconces along the rock walls lit the way, since no
sunlight was ever allowed to enter the castle.

Tim took the opportunity to review what had just happened.

In the past few minutes, he had been late to class, forgotten his
books and a note, and had been condemned to the dungeon for an
indefinite period of time. Now he was on his way to that dungeon,
where he would be chained to the wall and starved until school let
out at dusk, over ten hours from now. Periodic whippings would
keep him in just enough pain to prevent sleepiness or boredom, as
if the horrid stench and dank conditions weren't enough. He had
only been in the dungeon once, when he had to deliver a message
to a torturer, and he did not care to visit again, especially as an
unlimited occupant. He had seen a student hanging on the wall,
clothes torn and bloody from whip lashings, face dirty and tear-
streaked, and had seen the pleading look in those desperate eyes...

Tim was suddenly filled with anger. Why did the teachers
treat them so cruelly? Why didn't the students fight back? He
clenched his fists as he thought about how his own teacher
screamed at him just because he forgot to bring a book to class.
He stopped abruptly as he realized how blindly obedient he was
being to those teachers now as he walked willingly to uncounted
days of pain and cold. Well, if they're going to get me, he thought,
they're going to have work for it.

Turning, Tim jogged back they way he had come. It was

firmly decided in his mind now. He was going to try to escape --
no, he was going to escape. It would be a simple matter to sneak
out of the back entrance to the castle that he had heard so many

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rumors about from other would-be escapers. He was small and fast
-- they would never notice when he dashed out across the small
walkway bridging the moat to freedom.

He quickened his pace, turning a corner that led to where

most students had never gone: The teacher's section of the castle.
It was here that they lounged between classes and during lunch
period. It was here that they laughed and joked about the students
they had beaten and tormented. It was here that they schemed and
plotted new ways to make a student's life miserable. It was the
place where no teacher would expect a student to be, especially
trying to escape. Tim was gaining confidence with every step he
took.

But suddenly he heard voices ahead, where the passage

turned to the right. Shadows of men crept along the wall toward
the hall where Tim stood exposed. He slid to a halt, frantically
looking for a place to hide. The voices grew closer and for a
moment, Tim thought for sure he was going to be captured and his
chance for freedom would be gone, but then he spotted a door
marked STORAGE nearby. He leaped at the handle, ripping it
open desperately as the first dark-clad teacher rounded the corner.
Inside the pitch-black room, Tim pulled the door closed, praying
that no one had seen him but knowing that someone had.

The voices and thudding boots loudened as the teachers

moved closer. Panic flooded Tim's body as the teachers stopped
right outside the door, and he was ready to give up and accept his
punishment for disobedience. They would open the door and see
him cowering in the dark and take him away to the dungeon for the
rest of his life.

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 But then the teachers continued on their way, the voices
eventually dying away with the sound of their pounding boots. His
heart beating loudly, Tim slowly pushed the door open a crack and
looked around. No one was in sight. Heaving a sigh of relief, Tim
fell back onto the floor, mentally exhausted. He took a moment to
compose himself, then left the room and continued down the hall,
much more cautiously now.

Tim crouched in a dim corridor beside a wooden door on

which was stenciled the words TEACHER EXIT, listening to the
sounds of teachers talking and laughing within. Beyond the door
was a small lounge, Tim had heard, in which another door led to
the small catwalk crossing the moat at the back of the castle. From
there he could escape into the forest on that side of the castle with
relative ease and disappear forever.

Except he had not anticipated there being any teachers

present in the lounge when he had devised his plan.

He thought furiously about how he could get through

without being seen. He didn't know anything about the interior of
the lounge, and did not want to risk peeking through the door. The
hallway he was in stretched away in both directions, without any
form of cover in sight. They only way he could get to the exit,
Tim thought grimly, was to become invisible.

Just when he was about to give up in despair, he

remembered a room he had passed marked SERVANT DRESS.
The plan he was thinking about was not only risky, but it was
insane to think that it could succeed. Still, it was fairly dark in the
hall, and the teachers didn't pay much attention to servants...

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 Tim turned and ran back down the hall.

Presently, he found the room in question and pushed on the

door. Inside, it was dark, as usual, but he could just make out the
forms of robes and tattered attire lining the walls on both sides.
Various boxes and crates littered the floor, making it a challenge
for Tim just to get to the clothes without stubbing his toe in the
darkness. He selected a cloak of about his size and donned it,
pulling the cowl up over his head, hoping it would shadow his
face. Satisfied with his appearance, Tim stepped back out into the
hallway, hunching over like a servant and keeping his head down
as he limped back to the lounge.

Once there, he drew in a deep breath, praying that his plan

would work, and pounded on the door, shouting as gruffly as
possible.

"A student is escaping! Help! A student is trying to

escape!"

The voices inside died instantly and were replaced by

pounding feet on the floor. Tim stepped back to avoid being hit in
the face by the door when it flew open, revealing three black-
enshrouded teachers holding various sharp weapons in their hands.

"Where, servant?" one of them demanded.

"That way!" Tim said, pointing back the way he had come.
"Hurry!"

The teacher peered closer at Tim for an agonizingly long

moment, then shrugged and hurried down the hallway with the
others. After they disappeared around a corner, Tim collapsed
against the wall and wiped sweat from his brow, exhaling loudly.
He was shaking violently, and had to force himself to enter the

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lounge that only seconds before had been occupied by dagger-
wielding teachers.

The room inside was furnished with lavish sofas and chairs,
with paintings of various bleak settings and landscapes lining the
stone walls. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, but Tim wasn't
interested in anything but the wooden door on the opposite wall. It
beckoned for him to open it, the handle seeming so close and
inviting. Tim leaped across the room, realizing for the first time
that he was actually going to escape the madness of the castle. He
wrenched the handle.

Again, disaster started with a locked door.

Tim felt like crying. He desperately tore at the door, but it

wouldn't budge. He searched the room again quickly, not really
knowing what he was looking for, only knowing that the teachers
would soon realize that it was him who was escaping. They would
come back with their knives and stab him to death, but not before
they had tortured him for months without food, until his body was
a mere skeleton. They would tear his hair out, they would lash,
they would...

Out of the corner of his eye, Tim saw the glint of shiny
metal. Spinning wildly, he found a set of keys lying on a table in
the corner. Keys! They would unlock the door! He would be
free! Tim bounded over to the table, snatched the keys, and ran
back to the door. One by one, he tried each of the more than
twenty keys in the lock, pushing one in and ripping it out again
when it didn't work.

Outside the lounge, he could hear shouts and the sound of

running feet. He fumbled faster with the keys, sensing that at any

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moment a teacher was going to find him and kill him. Just a few
more seconds was all he needed, only a few more seconds...

With a click, the lock opened.

Tim threw the door wide and was greeted by a gentle

rainfall and a gray sky. It was the most beautiful sky he had ever
seen before in his life. A small bridge spanned the murky waters
of the moat, and from there it was a twenty yard run to the trees
beyond.

Tim dashed headlong across the wooden bridge and into

the field, feeling the rain sting against his battered face. Behind
him, he could hear a teacher shouting that he had gotten out of the
castle. From one of the guard towers, arrows rained down upon
him, but he was within the trees before anyone could organize a
full-scale pursuit.

Tim slumped down against a tall tree, laughing out loud as

the cold rain washed over him. For the first time in years, he felt
really free from school.

END

Thomas Krehbiel

December 1986

Revised for spelling, grammar, and typos December 2010

Copyright (C) 1986-2010 Thomas Krehbiel

Licensed under Creative Commons BY-NC-SA

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