“You know it almost feels like schools are frozen in time.” Nishant said taking his first sip of the morning coffee.
“Really? How so?” asked Richa, the woman he’d been married to for the past 2 years.
This was the ritualistic early morning breakfast chatter of the young twenty something couple taking place at the dining table in a fairly average sized (some might say tiny) apartment in a busy suburb of the city.
“I mean things never really go through a serious transition in schools, they merely phase out and get replaced once again by more of the same.”
Richa took another sip from her cup and gulped some coffee down before replying “Oh God! Is this going to be one of those mornings when you’re going to wax philosophical and that’s supposed to have a profound impact on me for the rest of my day and when we return home in the evening I’m supposed to tell you how what you said changed the way I look at everything?”
“What? No! Wait, is that how you perceive it when I pour out my innermost feelings to you?” shot back Nishant.
“Well, it’s kind of becoming a pattern of late. But never mind. Continue with your school theory. I’m still not clear what you mean.” Replied Richa carefully averting what might’ve turned into a source of argument in an alternate timeline.
Nishant suddenly took a straighter, more alert posture ready to put forth something of extreme importance. “Haan, so what I mean is every classroom of every school will have the naughty kid, the problem child, the teacher’s pet, the athlete, the class clown, the reticent arts & crafts enthusiast, the bully, and the one who lags behind. Exact same thing with the teachers. There’s always the hard-nosed strict one who gets the most colourful of nicknames, there’ll be the lenient understanding one who’ll be the favourite of the introverted students, the sadistic P.T teacher who loves to make overweight students sweat, the boring one whose very breathing pattern makes for a soothing lullaby, and the out of date senile one who’s still clinging on to their job solely on the merit of their seniority. The peons have and will always keep bringing cups of tea, the text books are never brand new, the assembly time hymns keep blending into one humdrum monotone. Generations change, decades go by, but it all stays the same.”
Richa tried to keep a straight face as best as she could, letting her husband have his moment before putting forth her response.
“Well, is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Nishant clicked his tongue.
“You’re missing my point. It’s not about good or bad. It just stays the same regardless. That is my point.”
Richa blinked her eyes twice.
“Oh! I thought you were going somewhere with this.”
Nishant sighed and then got up from the table with a slight jolt.
“I’d love to sit and tell you more but I’m late for work and frankly you’re not really my target audience. One day I shall put all my thoughts in a book and publish it, and then the world will nod in agreement. “
“Ooooh! Low blow honey.” Replied Richa before advancing to kiss her husband goodbye. The rest of the day beckoned and in a few minutes she’d leave for work herself.
That day Richa asked the cab driver to take an alternate route to work. One that passed by her old school.