The things she carried were difficult to
determine, for they went beyond what the human eye is capable of seeing.
Sitting in her desk in the early morning,
she was placid, the sounds of others filling into the room would not disturb
her. The tick of the clock wouldn’t bring anxiety, or so it appeared. She
carried a backpack, and since she was a diligent student, it was always filled
to the brim, overflowing with textbooks and assignments. The backpack, usually
around fifteen pounds, was only a small weight she carried in her life. What
weighed much more was a delicate photo inside of her wallet, neatly tucked
inside the backpack, and a red, rubber ball innocuously placed in the middle
pouch. She carried a reminder of her mother’s passing. The photo was taken
three months ago of her mother on her forty-seventh birthday, the last one she would
ever celebrate.
He was quite the antithesis of she. He
was an athlete, a jock. Others believed he was the most popular boy in the
school; they almost convinced him that this was true. With one leg casually
propped up on a chair, he stood there and leaned over to talk to a girl. Before
any words came out, he thought to himself. He thought of how to correctly
pronounce his “S,” the words of his voice coach ringing in his ears. His back
was flat; his knee was support for his elbow. This effortless look concealed
his mental struggle like a cautious animal not letting its guard down. He
carried this weight, this horrible handicap, but nevertheless, he knew that it
was his secret and his alone.
The counselor at school had the most evident
load of them all. Kid One gingerly sat in the chair across the table Monday
morning, shameful to admit of what he did over the weekend. He was shameful to
lower himself, and to meet the counselor’s eyes. The bag that he used for drugs
over the weekend was suddenly passed along to the counselor, put into her
“overflow baggage” section. This was kid one’s last day. This was his last
strike. This was the counselor’s last time she would ever see him, this kid
one. This weekend event was now shared between the two of them. She felt she
should have done more to help this kid. Now, it was to late. Now, she carried
Kid One’s burden too.
Kid Two went into the counselor’s office
only one hour later. He too was responsible, and he knew what he had done was
wrong. The scars on his wrist were a reminder of this. With an expulsion, his
parent’s would have disowned him. With the suspension he received, he found
that his own self-hatred was worse than any other punishment. He weight was too
much to handle, and the counselor knew this. He carried these self-loathing thoughts with himself as he
approached the bathroom. He counted the pills, each weighing no more than a
tenth of an ounce, but they felt like bricks against the palm of his hand. His
weight that was once reasonable seemed to suffocate him. He put the pills down,
and while he told his counselor all of this, her mouth seemed to mimic similar
motions.
There was one object that every Severn
student carried, and it unanimously outweighed all other burdens – the brain.
The brain was a package that varied in shape and size, and that needed to make
sure it included all of the necessities. Without it, the students would not
have survived. It brought knowledge, courage, and passion; on the other hand,
it also brought evil, jealously, and corruption.
These were the things that some Severn
Students carried, and even with this tremendous weight, they were still able to
walk.
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