It was a nice, but chilly, morning when I walked into class, ready (with my notes printed from home the night before) for a double Chem period. I wore the usual uniform for the AM cohort, sweatpants that I wore to bed the night before, and a sweatshirt that I had only worn twice this week. I thought that this outfit would keep me warm enough to sit indoors, but, boy, was I wrong.
As soon as I sat in my seat, I was attacked by the wind that came through the open windows. I am sure everyone knows what I mean. I am talking about the tiny windows that are now required to stay open because of Covid, which make even a warm and windless day feel like a winter vortex inside a classroom.
Outside, the wind felt like a refreshing breeze, but in the classroom, when the wind was funnelled through the tiny windows, I felt the gusts of wind overcome me until I was shivering in my seat. I looked up at the clock and, to my dismay, I realized the first Chem period had not even started yet.
I looked around the class of three people, and I saw that everyone else was suffering as well, although they hid it better than I did. The bell rang, and I only had to brave the elements for 97 more minutes. Within 10 minutes of the first period, I had icicles forming on my nose, and my eyelashes were frozen. The AC had miraculously turned on as well, as it always does on the coldest days of the year, so I was blasted like a flavor-blasted goldfish by cold air.
By 20 minutes into the period, I had to make sure I did not stop writing my notes, because otherwise I was scared my fingers would become frozen by hypothermia, and I would have to get them amputated. The nice day outside had transformed itself into a brutal winter storm, and I only had one thing to blame: the tiny square windows.
I have never taken Physics before, but I truly believe those windows defy the laws of physics and should be outlawed. It seems impossible that such small windows could become the bane of our existence at the high school, but I have witnessed first hand the effect of sitting too close to the windows.
One day, my close acquaintance, Samantha (class of 2022), sat row closer to the windows than usual, and I think she will ever recover. Like most students, she refuses to admit that the cold bothers her, but anytime the wind blows, she immediately runs for cover, and she refuses to say the word “window” anymore.
Of course I care about covid safety, but I have to wonder if the open windows cause more harm than good. If you take Samantha as an example, the windows have been more crippling to her mental and physical health than anything else in the pandemic, and personally, I would rather live through Spring of 2020 again than have to sit near the windows for an extended period of time.
This pandemic has taught us many things. We have learned how to learn virtually, how to occupy ourselves when we are quarantined, and how to be caught cheating on an untimed, multiple choice, take-home quiz about logarithms (ask any Junior).
However, these windows present us with another valuable lesson from the pandemic. This is a perfect time to learn how to cut our losses and learn when is an appropriate time to give up. I think it is safe to say that Edgemont High School has been bested by ventilation, and we should simply close las ventanas before someone becomes seriously injured.