the pleas of a prisoner

     My name is Lucy Danto. I am in the eighth grade at the McCullough Junior High School in Texas. Please, if even for a brief moment, let my voice be heard. 

     Every weekday, I wake up deprived of rest, my late hours spent completing homework. I get on an overcrowded bus supervised by a driver who once stopped in the middle of an intersection at a green light to yell at a student. At the last stop, a girl tries to get on the bus. There is no seat for her to sit in, every seat is full with two people and some even have three. She has a violin and cannot sit as the third person in a seat. The bus driver kicks her off the bus and drives away.

     Forty minutes after getting on the bus, I enter a building that looks and feels like a prison. The walls are blank and empty, and there are no windows. For the next eight and a half hours, I am confined to my prison, a place that millions of students attend every weekday.

      I go to school longer than some adults work every day, confined to silently sitting still at an uncomfortable desk. I am told when to eat and use the restroom and punished when I ask to eat in class. Our lunchtime is limited, and the food provided by the school is probably worse than food in prison. The milk is expired and the corn dogs are sometimes green.

     My classmate had a panic attack in class today. The teacher tells her to be quiet and calm down. She keeps crying uncontrollably, and the teacher takes her to the hallway to talk to her. My classmate tells the teacher she has been depressed and does not want to live anymore. The teacher tells her to "look on the bright side of things." The teacher also writes her a referral and gives her detention for disrupting the class by crying. She also recieves lunch detention because her ripped jeans are 'revealing'. 

     Today I passed a friend in the hallway. I hadn't seen her for a while, but I remembered her story. She was legally blind and the school administration would not allow her to take her PSAT on paper even though she had legal documents saying she was required to receive these accommodations. 

    During the school day, I take many classes. These include Honors Algebra 1, Honors English Language Arts, Art, Spanish 1, Honors History, Honors Science, Health, Theatre, Writing Strategies, and Orchestra. Every teacher gives us homework. My friends and I joke about how we only have "a few hours of torture left." We have countdowns till the dismissal bell on Friday, a countdown until we can have a break. 

     I leave school with hours of homework ahead of me. I work until 8:30, and my school ends at four. I study, participate in out-of-school PE, and practice my cello. I write for hours because I have a burning passion for it, but my time is limited because I must sleep. I go to bed at 10:00, exhausted. 

     The next day, I take a test I was unprepared for because no student was informed about it. I failed the test, and I'm told I should've studied more.

      When I get home from school, I cry because I feel as if I am not enough. No matter how hard I try, I will never satisfy the expectations of the American school system. Students who have a physical health issue are accommodated, yet I am a student with multiple mental health struggles who has never been given an accommodation. Even though my struggles cannot be physically seen, my impediments are just as valid as theirs. Yet I silently struggle with these burdens because I will be punished for raising my voice.

     I tell my story to the counselors, and they laugh. They think it's some sort of hyperbole. I tell this to my therapist, and she laughs. They laugh at our pain as if it's some kind of joke. So I'll let my tears fall on your carpet, and I'll apologize when your classroom floor gets wet.

     Today, I will not stay silent. I will let my voice be heard as I tell the world about the horrible normalization of the injustice in the American school system.  

Please, hear my plea,

Please, I beg of you,

Hear the cries of the prisoner and not the imprisoner

Please,

Hear my plea

for an end to this injustice.

-Lucy Danto