We Learn From Failure

2045 AD

In the Science wing of Issaquah High School, massive bright green palm fronds reach up fifty feet above the students. The sounds of plush, moist droplets trickle down the vines, and plop onto the waxy, climbing philodendron. Several Toucans squawk in the trees overhead and deep croakes escape the throats of unseen toads. The large bamboo chime softly beats together letting the students know their time is up, all physics tests should be turned into the collection bin on Mr. Evans desk. 

Not one student needed even a five minute warning, as all tests had been finished within the first half hour. Not a single student lets out a deep groan or a sigh as they stand from their table. No red cheeks or pit stains. As a matter of fact, each student could fall under one of two categories… serene or merry. 

Sammy pulls her backpack up on her shoulders, her bare feet follow the soft grassy path that flows into the hallway. Up above, the glass ceiling allows the sun to shine its rays onto the student’s tan skin and cover the orchids, birds of paradise, ferns, and orange heliconia flowers in its yellow glory. Johnny swoops in behind her, gripping her slim waist and kissing her briefly on the cheek and she lets out a sweet giggle of a teenager in love. 

“Hi.” They let their warm fingers tangle together like roots in soil. Pushing through the glass doors leaving the Science wing they immediately step into warm soft sand. They are now fully immersed in the ocean themed lobby, a balmy summer breeze wafts through the room, and California palms sprout up haphazardly around the rotunda. In the middle of the enormous round room is the fountain. Groups of freshman, sophomores, juniors, and seniors spread out around the room in their cliques, lounging around the edge of the fountain or tucked into summery garden pockets. Tweeting yellow Goldfinches flutter through the trees and the sound of trickling water from the fountain bounces off the tempered glass walls. 

They join their friends who each have their pant legs rolled up and their feet luxuriating in the cool freshwater. Lively goldfish swim around, dodging feet but hunting for a treat. Sammy rolls up her yoga pants to her knees and steps into the refreshing water, and takes a seat on the smooth cement next to her best friend, Claire. They shoulder bump each other while the boys do their quick fist bump greetings. 

“Do you have any homework?” Sammy lets her gaze fall on Johnny’s strong jaw, his tousled brown hair as he sits down next to her. 

“Yeah, the Health Education reading. What about you?” He begins pulling his small health book out of his backpack. It’s hard for him to imagine his petite mom carrying around books much bigger than this. His mom always marvels at the small chapter books they carry around, fascinated at the idea that their school textbooks had been separated into chapters and now around as small notebooks rather than chunky, heavy textbooks, breaking their backs. He tries to envision her in a weary high school class with her eyes glued to an Ipad instead of having her hands experiencing, touching, poking, working. He tries to picture her hunched and quiet, surrounded by gray artless walls studying alone rather than in some sort of conversation with her classmates.

“Me, too.” They both open up their Health books and begin reading the few pages that had been assigned as reading while Johnny lets soft fingers trail up and down the back of her gray sweater. 

Sammy takes in a deep breath letting the sweet coconutty smell envelop her senses. She attempts to imagine her peers all struggling with anxiety or depression or some sort of mental health issue that her Health book talks about, but the fact is that these issues have dropped significantly from the time her mom was a high schooler. She tries to imagine her mom sitting in a cinder block, cold classroom with just two windows, no recess, hardly any time outside, staring at a screen for five hours, five minute passing periods, no space to breathe, the weight of a thousand assignments on her shoulders, cell phones glued to student’s hands. She tries to imagine her mom depressed, suicidal, anxious, craving peace or a safe place that wasn’t available to her at school. At this school. 

Majority of the high schools around the nation had been demolished or remodeled into these biospheres. The country has seen an all-time high in grade improvement and an all-time low in anxiety and depression. 

Sammy looks straight up into the sun overhead, the vitamin D she knows is soaking into her pores, pushing back depression, helping her cells process vitamin C, restoring vitality to bones and brain. 

She looks around at her friends, her peers, her fellow classmates examining their calm demeanors, the happiness and joy that has surrounded her high school experience. She remembers her mom’s own anxiousness of just the thought of Sammy entering high school, the fear her mother had of Sammy living in a hell on earth. She remembers her first day of freshman year, being utterly shocked at the vastness of the school. The intricate details of each themed wing, the sun that covered each classroom, the leafy trees, the life. She remembers the first 

time she saw older students wandering around the grassy halls barefoot, she could not contain the smile that overcame her face at that moment. 

The wind chimes clinked together marking the five minutes they had to get to their next class, Johnny grabs her hand again as they make their way to the History wing. Her favorite. As they reach the first set of glass double doors a group enters the small space, waiting for the first set of doors to close, a sophomore pushes open the following set of doors where thousands upon thousands of butterflies roam free. A bright blue Morpho butterfly lands on Sammy’s shoulders, its massive wings rise and fall and Sammy lets her breath sync to the pattern. Once again she tries to imagine her mom with a stuttered breath, the tightness she might have felt as she walked into a class she didn’t understand, prepared to fail. Sammy might not enjoy learning about chemistry or physics or Shakespeare, but every class she steps into with its themed nature scene only brings tranquility, allowing muscles and fascia and minds to relax like one stepping into a cool pool on a hot summer's day. Anyone in their right mind could see the night and day difference between adolescents now, those from the early 2000’s. 

Her and Johnny pick a round table with two other students, preparing their pencils, paperwork, and History textbooks. She wiggles her naked toes in the grass. 

“Good morning class!” Mrs. Leonardi stands at the front of the room, only a few butterflies found their way inside their classroom. Sweetbay Magnolias, Pink Dogwoods, bright purple Lilies of the Nile, and Redbud Forest Pansy surround them. They begin their reading about World War II, flashes of war floor her mind. Bombs, blood, death. Another part of history that is so hard for her to grasp when she feels pampered and coddled here. 

She suddenly envisages her own kids beginning high school surrounded by nature and serenity and happiness. She pictures her daughter with golden hair like her own, laughing in the butterfly house, studying by the fountain, happy and blossoming in a place where most adolescents used to shrink. She absorbs the text being read aloud by another student, instantaneously grateful that we will learn, grow, adapt, improve, and thrive as a result of our history.