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| 1987, and the end windows still provide access to the view. When this photo was taken, things were still pretty much as they had been in my day. My dog Zara (lying down on the right of the picture) waits patiently for me to complete my task |
As previously stated on this blog, when I was much younger and still at school, I was prone to daydreaming. On pleasant sunny days, I'd sit and gaze out of the window and imagine I was flying through the clouds and soaring into the stratosphere at super-speed, doing all the things that beings imbued with the power of flight are able to. Well, apart from pooping on pedestrians below. I was a superhero, not a seagull. (Yup, I was a nutter even back then.)
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| 2010, and the windows are now blocked off. Note also the old folks' home on the left of the picture, and the railings (with razor wire on the roof of the small building on the right), giving the school a less than appealing appearance |
On rainy days I was more relaxed, preferring just to look out at the grey skies beyond, as rivulets of rain raced down the pane, leaving little trails in the dirt on the window. As I type this, it's raining outside, and it's with difficulty that I tear my gaze from the sky to apply myself to the task of writing yet another historically accurate, rousing reminiscence with which to thrill and enthral you. I hope you appreciate all the sacrifices I make on your behalf.
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| Me in my old classroom circa 1986 |
In previous posts, I've alluded to the fact that all our horizons seem to be narrowing, as fields and play areas are consumed and crammed with sheltered housing for the elderly or squashed, teensy houses or flats for those climbing the property ladder. For someone who grew up in a new town in the '60s, with its wide open spaces and acres of greenbelt for as far as the eye could see - and beyond - the disappearance of those green areas is casting a claustrophobic shadow over what was once an open and spacious place in which to live.
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| Close-up of part of the view from the back windows |
My town currently has a new schools programme underway, in which a new school is built and then the old one demolished, thereby freeing up land on which to erect housing. One thing that strikes me about these new buildings is that they have far fewer windows than their predecessors, in many cases resulting in pupils only having four walls to stare at (though no doubt the classrooms are brightly-lit), as opposed to a view beyond the windows. It must be like living in a prison. Even where classrooms do have windows, they're high-up, narrow ones, which allow no sight of the scenery (such as it is) beyond.
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| The same room as above and below. As you can see, the pupils had quite an expansive view before the windows on one side were covered |
Take a look at the accompanying photographs of one of my old primary classrooms. The above photo was taken circa 1986, about 16 years after I had left for secondary school. Apart from new desks, everything was much as I remembered it. As you can see, two of the walls have large windows, through which the pupils have a view of houses and fields outwith the school. In the photo below, taken in the same class in 2012, one side has had its windows covered so that it can be utilised for pinning up pictures, etc. This wasn't restricted to that one room; that entire side of the school had all the windows blocked off, restricting the pupils' view of the wider world outside.
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| 2012. Dull, dreary, dismal and despairing. I'm glad it wasn't like this in my day |
Maybe there's no correlation, but I can't help wondering if narrowing people's horizons may also narrow their dreams and aspirations. As a schoolboy, I used to explore the clouds from the comfort of my desk, and felt free and unfettered. Just what do today's schoolkids dream of, or explore in their imagination with only the claustrophobic confines of four walls to 'inspire' them?
Any thoughts on the matter?
