Plain black table tops, bright red text books, bleach white walls, this is my prison. Tables lined neatly,all in a row, the quiet hum of voices and dull scratching of pens. The door stands open beckoning me towards the bright summers day. One movement towards that door and my four eyed maths teachers voice will shriek through the air, setting teeth on edge. A warm breeze trickles through the open window, playing with my hair, teasing me. My pen dances between my fingers as I look down at the page before me. It's a blurr of numbers and letters that I'll never make out. A sigh passes over my lips and I glance back at the clock. Tick, tick, tick, the second hand moves slowly from one number to the next, teasing me with wasted seconds. My pen hits the paper again and I begin doodle idly on the side of my page. The chiming song of a bird floats past the classroom and I glance up at the sparrow nestled in the greenery outside, teasing me. I hum quietly under my breath, wishing for a place for from here. My eyes wander from my page again to the graffiti on the bench top. MADDI RULES, I LOVE CHRIS, TIFFANY GIVES HEAD, P.L & S.T FOREVER. I smile despite my frustration, how many children will sit in this exact chair. How many uninterested eyes will glance longingly at the clock. How many high school lovers will write their initials on this table? How many already have? How many will be suppressed by the monotony of life here?