For about 84 percent of the school day, Staples students and teachers are in class seemingly awaiting the bell to signal that class is over. In the 16 percent given to students, Staples comes alive.
Observing the hallway on the building’s three floors, one will find candid conversation, and actions that are indicators of the student culture at Staples. It’s 9:45 A.M.
Welcome to passing time.
Two girls rush down the second floor hall, giggling as they gossip about a cute boy in one of their classes. “What does he look like?” “Show me a picture from Facebook!” “Have you spoken to him yet?” “You should totally go for it.”
They’re dressed identically in black leggings, knee-high chocolate-brown boots, and long, brightly colored tunics. Their heels click click on the tan floor, a harsh sound amidst the familiar buzz of hallway traffic.
On the bridge, they notice their reflections in the glass. Each girl simply cannot help but take a quick glance at her body from the neck down and then look around cautiously to see if anybody noticed.
Coming up behind them is a boy, in dark blue baggy jeans and a black sweatshirt with its hood up. The boy’s head is tilted down so that he is just able to see the floor in front of his feet. He looks down at his iPhone, thumbs racing across the keyboard.
He is forced around a circle of girls in the center of the hallway. Their laughter fills the corridor, but their gaiety only causes the scowl on the boy’s face to deepen.
Beside this group of girls—is a couple…one of those couples. Their hands are interlocked, hanging at their waists. The boyfriend brushes the straight blonde hair from his girlfriend’s face and they act as if one of them is moving across the country within the hour. It is a display of emotion, one that many students wished they did not have to witness.
Near the entrance two students on crutches make their way through the crowded hall. The injured girl, surrounded by friends, chatters happily as she glides through the hallway, looking as if she isn’t even injured. The boy, all alone and obvioulsy not used to crutches, takes jerky step after jerky step, slowly learning how to manuever the halls.
Slowly they hobble past Principal John Dodig who is planted in the center of the Staples logo, hands clasped behind him, feet spread shoulder width apart, in his favorite navy blue suit.
Two teachers, standing out in their button-down shirts and black slacks, slip between the group of girls and the couple. They’re focused on their conversation, barely even noticing the students racing around them. Keys jingle on lanyards around their necks with each step, and their arms are filled with papers and files.
One of them looks up to acknowledge the senior boy who calls out his name. The student’s loud voice echoes through the corridor. The teacher answers his shout with a wave and smile. The final bell rings and immediately the crowds disperse, classroom doors are shut, and silence returns. Passing time is over.
