Chief Piece- Mackenzie Goldschlager

They’re all around me. I entered the room silently a few moments earlier, so that no one would stare. A tall, over 6 feet, Indian would be sure to draw attention. They are high school students, after all. Expecting at least one glance, I lower myself into a chair closest to the door. Now, as I sit at the back of the room, I am able to see the entirety of Tomasso hall. The rows, all lowering down into a central podium, seem to descend infinitely. Scattered amongst the never ending steps are children--I’m guessing early teens. They sit, backs hunched over their work. Their eyes are glued to papers and books like mosquitos to a lamp and their postures are unwavering. (4a) Some are staring straight ahead in thought, while others are tirelessly scribbling meaningless words onto a page. I see a student to my far left open a bottle of hand sanitizer. Quickly, a sweet, yet chemical, scent makes its way to my nose. I am suddenly aware of the variety of noises emanating from the room. The sound of pencils writing, chairs squeaking pens clicking, fingers typing  invade my ears, but for only a moment. (4) Suddenly, the noises don’t seem as intrusive. The noises had faded to a dull ringing in my ears, almost unnoticeable. The only way to describe my surroundings would be as a silent cacophony. The distractions are there but they all blend together to create a singular constant noise. I reach down and feel the seat I am on. The cushion is soft and covered in a rough canvas material. It reminds me of the blankets in the ward, the kind that seem like they should be for decoration and not actual use. I remain here for an hour, staring into the quiet chaos until the bell rings and signals my departure.