The Prison of Youth

The worker enters the factory
He heads from shift to shift
To do the tasks assigned for him

Under careful supervision from his superiors
He does his work
He is given more work to do later

But the bell
The piercing, ringing bell
Says it’s time to move on

Lunchtime comes
The worker goes to the canteen
And eats his lunch

After a brief break is given
He must return to his shifts

The shifts continue on until the last bell rings
The worker is dismissed
His tasks for the rest of the day have already been assigned for him

He knows he has a long night ahead of him
He’s tired and longs to do nothing more than sleep

But he can’t
Not unless he wants to be punished
For not completing the tasks given

And so he does his tasks
And ultimately falls into deep slumber
To do it all over again

You might be asking what job the worker has
It’s a very easy solution
It stares you right in the face

He is a student
A student dealing with the factory that is the school system
And much like the workers a century ago
His creativity
His individuality
His talents
His goals
Are all subsumed to serve the aims of the school

Not much has changed
Not much will change either
So long as we continue to idly linger by
And do nothing

But we must do something
If only to ensure that future children
Do not become mindless automatons

In an age of relentless creativity
There is no reason why the creative instinct should be punished
And yet, schools, like the factories, do just that
Imprisoning the mind
Imprisoning the body
Imprisoning the soul

And though liberation does eventually come
It’s much too late to recapture that youthful enthusiasm that was murdered by unfeeling rote