I've never been in jail, but I get the feeling it's very similar to my sixth block class. I hate to sound shallow, but it's basically a very small room with few places to sit, stand and/or walk. Also, I get to share this tiny "classroom" with like 10 other people. (Reason for putting "classroom" in quotes: Sixth block is hardly a class.)
Let me back up...Sixth block is SEEK (Students Examinig and Exploring Knowledge, or something like that). Pretty much, you have to appear smart at one point in time, then you can take this so-called "class" until you graduate. You. Do. Nothing. We start the day by solving a problem and writing a sentence with an obscure word. Then we do test prep/college research/speed reading/homework. Translation: study hall. (Further translation: Do nothing but jack around for 45-90 minutes, depending on the day of the week.)
Allow me to point out, much of this writing is done DURING SEEK! I have literally nothing better to do, and I want to write stuff. (I promise, it gets deeper.) Being that it's a smart class, I am surrounded by smarties, always analyzing the shit out of things we'll never need to know. In some special way, I guess I'm cutting a new path through the jungle of knowledge. Doing this helps me to know myself. C'mon [insert teacher's name here], I'm just doing what Shakespeare taught me to do!
Back to the classroom. (Let's call it the "cell" for now.) I'm stuck in here with several people I don't know that well. I've seen these same people for nearly 4 years in a row. Never connected with them. It would've happened by now. Growing up in a private school and crossing over right at 7th grade...well, things change. ANYWAY, they're all yapping it up, discussing the problem we have to solve, discussing things I've never been involved in - stuco, sports (freaking sports). Basically, I can't breathe. Not a big deal, because the only thing (well, not the ONLY thing) that sets this "cell" apart from that of a jail would be, well, an easy escape. The hallway outside has four or five desks lined up against the wall.
At the far end of the hallway, close enough to the classroom but far enough to keep me sane. This is my runaway, my safe place (to get a little cliche). I can take one of the laptops out there, do this silly little blog thing, and forget that I'm even at school. Also, amazing view of the roof through the window (as odd as it sounds, the top of the lower level is parallel with the floor).
Now you know where this started. We're getting to know each other. This is great.
Thing is, I can't be in there constantly. It does things to my brain. A small space can be torture. No, I don't have a problem or a phobia. I'm just a quiet guy with loud thoughts. I can concentrate almost anywhere on my own thoughts and tune the world out, but when my surroundings outstand my own thoughts, I have to get out. It makes me crazy. Lending attention is easy. Having it stolen is something else entirely. I'll listen to anyone who wants/needs to be heard. Everyone has something to say.
Being in a room (in a school) where everyone listens only to themselves...God, no. I say, if anyone cares to hear what I have to say, without talking to me, read it at talstbm.blogspot.com. That's all. In the real world, I'd rather speak up only when it's utterly necessary. I have one mouth and two ears, I understand.
Hearing is a sense. Talking is an action. You can't learn much from talking, except what you already know down in there somewhere. You probably just forgot, because you didn't listen well enough the first time. Small spaces. Big mouths. No words.
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