Take a trip back. I would like you to change something for me. Something that happened not so long ago. [[Go back->Outside School]] to 1968, to the Guildford School of Art. There was a protest, a student sit-in. We wanted to change things for the better as the quality of teaching and resources provided were a laughing stock. Despite this, we were young and not all of us had the same idea of what was “right”. When you are there, talk to us, and see us for who we were. Interview us, our struggles but also our beliefs and talent. However, be sure to interview the right people, for not all of us were the same.
The superbly grand archway and particularly large columns could mistake my current location for none-other than ancient Rome, however the painstakingly symmetrical windows with dove-like white frames coupled with the murky and dull climate suggests otherwise. Standing in the presence of the school, I felt an ache of unrest buried within my chest, an uneasy feeling smothering my thoughts as if my heart had been submerged in water and I needed someone desperately to pull the plug to let it out.
Neatly tucked away in my left pocket I noticed an old style notebook with a distinct blue fountain pen clipped onto the first page of the notebook at the top. I took the pair out and embraced them with both hands. For some reason I wet the pen and signed my initials at the top of the page before heading through the daunting doors of the [[Guildford School of Art->Female Flyer Student]].
Upon passing through the doors, a female student naturally hands me a flyer and loudly exclaims “Support our cause, this is unjust!”
[[Continue->Hallway]]
To my surprise, the halls possessed a lingering gloom, which clung to the interior of the building; it was mostly displeasing to the eye in comparison to the exterior of the school. Though the building gave a retired look, the students were very much lively with student announcers exclaiming in all corners of the school. I took a deep breath and [[proceeded down the hallway->Colin and Kevin]] whilst at the same time making my notebook and pen visible.
Two students eagerly approached me and asked if I could interview them separately. Introducing themselves as [[KEVIN SMITH->Kevin]] and [[COLIN CRAIG->Colin]] (far left and third from the left), I remembered that I should be cautious of whom to interview.
Approaching the end of the hallway near G29 marked on the door, walking room became exceedingly cramped and hard to pass by due to students sitting on the floor with their belongings and possessions scattered across the ground. This could be an opportunity to interview them. [[One student->Lost girl]] looks completely lost whereas the [[other->Sandwich girl 1]] is tucking into a well-prepared and filling sandwich. I clear my throat and grip my pen firmly.
“Excuse me? Would you be open to an interview on your current situation?”
“Why, yes. Of course. What would you like to know?”
"Why are you sitting-in?"
“We are hereby sitting-in to convey how poor and unsatisfactory the quality of teaching and resources are and that we want Arnold to change things [[immediately->Sandwich girl 2]].”
I should pick one question to ask her.
1. [[“What do you hope to gain out of this sit-in?”->Sandwich girl 2a]]
2. [[“How long do you plan to keep this disturbance?”->Sandwich girl 2b]]
She responds...
“We hope to gain a much greater share in the running of the School.”
“[[Thank you for your time->Two jocks]].”
She responds...
“We have been forced to do this as the authorities have not bothered to reply.”
“[[Thank you for your time->Two jocks]].”
"Excuse me, would you be open for an interview on your current situation?"
“OH, er, no. Nope” she declines.
“That was unexpected.”
1. [[Interview other student->Sandwich girl 1]].
2. [[Walk up the stairs->Two jocks]].
Continuing on my journey through the school, I come into contact with two jock-like males whilst proceeding up the stairs. It became apparent to me that they were not intending on moving to the side so that I could walk past. As I came close enough for physical contact, the left male purposely knocked me into the wall and snorted with a genuine disgust. Being quite offended, I reacted.
1. [[“Watch where you are walking, punk.”->Two jocks A]]
2. [[“Just to let you know, I’m not with those reporters.”->Two jocks B]]
Both of them smirk, however as I was knocked into the wall my notebook fell and landed open, exposing the notes on Colin. The bigger jock quickly retrieved it before I could reach it and decided to read the notes. To my surprise, his expression lit up and his smirk vanished completely. His eyes bounced from the notebook to me and then back again. Closing the notebook, he carefully helped me up and inserted it into my pocket.
"Keep going, there are many good students here." he said softly.
Afterwards the two jocks left and entered the room G28.
Heading up the stairs, there were scattered pages of newspapers all across the first floor of the building, including torn and [[shredded bits of articles->Upstairs]].
“Oh, I apologize. I thought you were with those pests. They have been pressuring our students into providing false statements and misleading the public by incriminating our cause for protest.”
“I see. Do you mind if I interview you?”
“Not at all, if it means setting things right.”
After asking a few questions and receiving worrying glances, we exchanged our goodbyes and parted ways. There were scattered pages of newspapers all across the first floor of the building, including torn and [[shredded bits of articles->Upstairs]].
I could understand why they were scattered across the floor like bits of rubbish carelessly. The media portrayed them as troublemakers and thugs to the extent where the truth is snuffed out like a frail candle flame. This sit-in is an act of desperation and a last resort.
There seems to be a lack of students upstairs, the sound of determination radiates from the [[ground floor->Downstairs]].
Turning back down towards the staircase I walk past the students sitting on the edge and find myself in front of two doors: G28 and G29. Flyers are pasted upon the grey door of [[G29->G29]] whereas the door of [[G28->G28 A]] is slightly open, emitting a low sea of whispers.
The atmosphere of G29 is quite peculiar. It seems as though the students in here are asleep however a pungent thick fog is present in the air. Most of the tables are pushed to one side with the exception of one which holds many types of food; the most common being plain white bread. Gathering in the center, the students huddle with their sleeping bags tightly bunched together. Slight giggles can be heard faintly within the circle, which almost makes me abruptly laugh for no reason at all. I take a step outside and close the door firmly shut behind me. [[G28 looks like a better option.->G28 A]]
Inside the dressmaking room holds a rather private meeting between a group of students who could indeed be accidently mistaken for a couple of business merchants. With most of them dressed sharply and presentable, I was immediately noticed as I came through the door despite it being already opened. A barrage of stares were brought upon me coupled with strong lines questioning my reason for being in the room. Before I could reply I noticed the two jocks from earlier sitting near the door. The jocks quietly explained whom I was and my intentions which allowed for slightly more [[breathing room->G28 B]].
“He’s not with them. But you should not be in here sir” said the jock.
“In that case, let him stay. It might be good for him to interview us” another student exclaims.
“I would very much like to interview some of you.”
[[“That can be arranged”->G28 C]] said the female student.
It was not a typical interview. Rather, it was more educational and informative with her asking questions instead of the other way round. I was presented with various documents. The intensity of the interview became a surprising mental battle for survival with every document that was brought out. The desperation for change and the notion of injustice thwarted the lack of trust between us and made it possible for her to show me these documents, causing a newly found sympathy for the students in this school. One of them suggests I take a picture of them [[outside->Heading Back]].
Heading back through the school, I glance at the surrounding students that are camped in the hallway. I notice one particular student standing in the middle of the reception hall with her hands neatly tucked into her side pockets. Preparing to request a final interview before I leave this place, I eagerly reach into my left pocket to retrieve the notebook and pen only to discover that they are missing. I search franticly in my other pocket and scour the floor thoroughly for any [[glimpse->Female Student End A]] of it.
Panicking, I look ahead and notice the notebook and pen in the hands of the female student. She suddenly approaches me in a gentle manner and stares lightly in my eyes.
“Thank you, I’m extremely grateful.”
“Excuse me? Who are you?”
[[“Thank you.”->End]]
She walks away and everything vanishes – the school, the students, the voices. Somehow, the heavy substance in my chest also vanishes, almost like a dove lifting off and disappearing across the horizon. In my hand are a few old newspaper articles dating back to 1968/9.
(Insert positive articles.)
[[I hear a voice...->End 2]]
Kevin did not provide any useful information. Most of the time he kept chewing his gum whilst insisting on selling me some 'substance'. I ended the interview as quickly as I could and proceeded to interview his [[counterpart->Colin]].
Colin gave the impression that he was an excellent and talented student. He took out a picture from his jacket and showed me a picture of his art exhibition where he said many people attended. His answers were lengthy and he seemed to know about most of the problems the students were facing, however did not provide any biased opinions.
I thank him and [[continue->Students on stairs]] down the hallway.
You succeeded. I was young and did not fully know how to help our cause. That was why I asked you, and it turns out, my note book is no longer empty. However the pen has run out of ink and there seems to be someone's initials at the top of the page.
End.