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TWELVE | ACADEMIC WEAPON OR VICTIM
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AS MUCH AS EVERYONE WOULD COMPLAIN ABOUT SCHOOL BEING BACK IN, THERE WERE SOME POSITIVES TO BE KNOWN. Stepping back into the cosy, familiar realm of school, where the scent of chalk and the hum of fluorescent lights create a symphony of structure and possibility. Marinette Dupain-Cheng led a life built upon a mountain of chaos and uncertainty (and not just because she was a teenage superhero). Having the safety blanket that was a rigid weekly timetable seemed to soften the noise and reign her in a little. Here, amidst the comfort of routine and the thrill of new challenges, the world outside seems to pause, allowing the luxury of discovery to unfold in the most delightful of ways.
As much as students oftentimes complained about being stuck in the confines of school—someday these moments they took for granted would be nothing more than distant memories they could hardly recall clearly. Each classroom, with its neatly lined desks and bulletin boards brimming with colourful maps and motivational quotes, where every lesson and project added a new chapter to the adventure that was life. The rhythmic clatter of lockers opening and closing is like a cheerful metronome, keeping time in this orderly ballet of learning, while the gentle buzz of anticipation in the hallways wraps around you like a warm, reassuring hug. In two years it would all be gone—replaced with dorm rooms, cold lecture halls and strangers that would never know her story the way the peers that had been with her since elementary school did.
Marinette tried not to think too hard about the uncertainty of her future—the tsunami of questions and hopes would send her down a spiral that'd ruin her entire week. And so, she turned her attention back to her lesson before she could even get the lid off that jar of worms.
In the sanctuary of the back row sat Marinette and Michelle Jones as their physics teacher wrote out exemplar questions on the battered whiteboard (new school year, same busted equipment). Natural light poured into the classroom, illuminating the classroom in a much more comfortable way then the fluorescent overhead lights in her other classes had. Acting like a backing track to their teachers' spiel, the old and over-worked air-conditioning unit whined to be put out of its misery. Marinette's brand new notebook sat open in front of her—already filled with three pages worth of messily written notes.
