Authority

Why do we cheer when we know that our teacher is gone? The word travels like wildfire through the narrow halls: Substitute! Substitute! Yet here I am at my computer, the class engaged in a silent and meaningless study hall under the cruel hand of one such substitute. I can't help but think that if my teacher were here, we would be laughing and chatting as normal, lines of healthy conversation filling this void now insufficiently met by a humming machine.

Embedded deeply inside the consciousness of every teenager is a syndrome which is steadily extending itself to all ages. The yearning for a lack of authority. We relish in the teacher who does not know our name, the note on the door which tells us mother is out, and the joyous tones of the otherwise dissonant school bell. It is what we desire that will truly tell others who we are, and a society of those unwilling to follow the rules when not watched is doomed to flounder in laziness. The class around me comprising of obedient AP students seem to fall like casualties on this battlefield of work. Our loyal band of 15 has now been reduced to a measly 2, as a score of soldiers were lost to the tempting outdoors of distraction, several to the deadly rounds of internet surfing, and my right hand man taking lethal blows as he clicks away furiously, a tricky level of Modern Warfare almost complete. It is no wonder that we are now watched from the dreaded MAC, a pristine room of internet surveillance where your every cyber footstep is traced. We are truly the one guards of our protection, and how can we marvel at firewalls and motion sensors when we immediately check our email when the masters back is turned?

My own guard has slipped, and I too fall wounded on this battlefield, work forgotten.