Seconds following the dissipation of the electronic ring from the class bell, I enter the immediately crowded and tight hallway. I adjust the straps of the black bag upon my shoulders, which easily reaches over ten pounds in weight due to the multiple class-specific books within them. I finish zipping up the bag moments after shoving the years old history book, the smell alike to that of an old library filling my nostrils for a moment. My eyes bounce between the plethora of different high school students walking down the hallway, colors filling my vision from the various clothing styles of the kids in my grade, before I jerk to my side as a result of one of the many people in the hallway running into my filled to the brim bag. One thing I carry, much alike to many other average children in the United States, is the burden of responsibility placed on my person from schooling. I carry this because I go through the process that most children do- I attend High School.

A limp finger moves for the dusty lamp situated on my desk, as the yellow light begins to emit from underneath the lampshade. As the light crawls across the side of the desk, it situates itself over the lightly clenched fist that found itself placed upon a piece of schoolwork. My fist slowly unclenches once the lamp is properly on, the motion soon replaced by an irritated sigh coming forth from my mouth. My dull-sighted, tired hazel eyes lackadaisical move over to the clock, reading the time of 9:08 PM. While I wish I could put it down, I know I can’t for the better of my future. The weight of the schoolbooks, schoolwork, and responsibility is a main factor of my occupation in my adult age. While I do understand this, it eventually wears me out and I would say many others would be found agreeing with me, as the year goes on. Work piles up and leads to long nights of study, and if you try to catch a break you find yourself a day behind. Falling behind results in further nights spent in deep times of study, and less hours of sleep- the average amount of hours slept by a teenager is 7 hours of sleep, while the amount needed is nine hours, according to Nationwide Children Organization.

Lights flicker above in the old, ominous hallway of the school. Multitudes of kids shamble within it, their faces painted with tired expressions and bags underneath their dull eyes. Incessant sounds of foot clattering with the hard, beige-faded tile flooring ring in the ears of all present, as an ever-flowing string of words release from the mouths of the kids. The backpack carries the memories of school. Memories of the hallways, the classrooms, you name it. Hallways full of undisciplined kids who think of themselves as top of the world. Classrooms full of kids who speak without filters and distract the teacher from properly defining what it is we’re studying.

The air flowing in the hallway is thick with the perspiration emitting from the bodies of the school children, the smell catching in my mouth as I was among those who chose to speak. Odors force their way into my nose from the surrounding bodies that envelop around me in the corridor, which had accumulated on their host for several hours throughout the school day. I find myself shoulder to shoulder with those I barely know, hips colliding in the swarm that is the intersection of hallways. When I find myself with the backpack in my possession, I find myself within cluttered hallways void of true joy emitted from the people walking inside it. What the backpack demands of me to carry it is the ability to manage six different classes covering six different subjects and lines of study, alongside that the projects, homework, and studies for oncoming tests of each class all in my freetime at home. It is a taxing process on student’s worldwide. The hazel eyes soon move their gaze away from the lamp into an eyeroll, one of my arms reaching upwards to run a somewhat paled hand through my deep brown hair. My lips pull taut into a deep frown as the schoolwork lays before me, my eyes shooting a glare towards the twentieth problem upon it, which had stumped the thinking process of the brain within me. However- Without the backpack, I would find myself, in the future, without the job I had dreamed for. I’d find myself living low-end, with low education and a low public outlook on my person.