The Backpacks

The Backpacks

Each girl at Rainshire Private Academy carried a backpack filled with writing instruments, notebooks, literature and memories with her to class every day. The first day of school would be no exception.

Arista carried only the basics the curriculum had called for. Her small drawstring pouch contained, among other things, a notebook, pen, and assignment book. She never carried more than she would need for a class, a habit that had followed her from her days living in the mountains with her grandmother.

Wendy's bag was a standard issue messenger bag containing every thing that had been on the recommended supply list she had been given at orientation. It was filled with freshly sharpened pencils, colorful pens, a highlighter, two notebooks, and an assignment book, white out, tape, paper clips, and the required literature. It was her first day and she was quite sure she would be prepared for whatever the instructor would ask.

Delma's backpack, an old, over-the-shoulder style, fashioned out of pink gingham, carried the required notebook, pencils, eraser, assignment book, as well as the required reading books. As it was her third year at the academy, she knew exactly what she would and would not need.

Some of the things they carried were dictated to them by the schools instructors and their brightly colored pamphlets on how to be prepared for the first day of school. They suggested such things as pencils, pens, erasers, notebooks, and paperclips. They required such things as an assignment book and the books the students would be required to read. While the pens and erasers did not weigh much, the literature did. With their thick, hard covers and hundreds of pages with thousands of words sprawled across dozens of chapters, they were constant reminders for the children. A reminder that the summer was over, a reminder that it would soon be getting cold, a reminder that free time would soon be a fond memory, a reminder that they would not see their parents until the end of the year, yes those books served as a reminder to each and every student at Rainshire Private Academy. The students were, of course, allowed to carry other things with them. Most children chose to carry small personal items or charms from their loved ones back home.

Arista wore a charm bracelet adorned with glittery stars. It served as a constant reminder of her grandmother, whom she had not seen in two years. Her grandmother fished the fools gold out of the river and wove the bracelet herself, intertwining the cords with bits of sparkling stone in a pattern reminiscent of constellations that could only be seen from their home in the mountains. She would carry with her a wallet filled with photographs of her family and friends, as well as a school identification card, lunch pass, and key back to the dormitory.

Wendy wore a silver necklace with a small, rosy heart at the end. Her mother had given her this charm, fashioned out of rose quartz, as a going away present to bring her good luck with making new friends in a new place. She also carried, in her back pocket, a compass given to her by her poppa. He was a fisherman by trade and often out at sea. "With this compass," he had said to her as she boarded the train to Rainshire, "You will always be able to find your way back home." She would think of her parents often. She wondered which course her mother was teaching at the Seashire University. She wondered what kind of fish her poppa would be bringing into port.

Delma always wore a pocket watch. It was made of gold with inlaid mother of pearl arches in the front. Inside the watch was an old photograph of her mother and father on their wedding day. She had no memories of her mother, and the photograph had always intrigued her. She often wondered what sort of woman her mother was. Her father had caught her in his room, peeking at the watch one day. He wrapped it up in a silk handkerchief and slipped it into her handbag before dropping her off at the academy three years ago. Her father was a government official, an ambassador to neighboring countries. It had only made sense to send her off to a popular boarding school with all the time he spent traveling. Spending so much time in the care of nannies and house maids had made Delma quite shy and withdrawn from other children. Although still quite hesitant to speak in front of class, Delma was slowly coming out of her shell and conversing with the other students.

Classes would begin at 9 a.m. The instructors slowly poured the lessons out into the morning. Soon, text books would be put away and other books would make their appearances from the depths of the children's backpacks.

Arista kept a small sketchbook on her to keep herself occupied during long lectures. She would often sketch out whatever point the teacher was yapping on about, instead of simply writing down the notes. Other times she would draw out the fox cubs she had seen playing along the river bank, back home in the mountains. Sometimes the subject was a fellow student, sitting lazily at a desk in front of her, completely unaware that he or she was the subject of her creativity. Arista dreamed of someday working in a big city, designing clothing that every young girl would go wild for and her sketchbook reflected this. During free time, Arista would pull out several of the latest teen fashion magazines to read and study. Weekends were usually reserved for homework and a trip across the city to the mall was a rarity indeed. With the latest styles at her fingertips, she was more apt to finish her homework instead of flouncing off to the shops Friday afternoon.

Wendy always kept an extra book in her bag, in addition to the required school books. Her favorites were short stories taken out of the past. Classical literature or deep poems, rich with emotion and over flowing with symbolism were what she treasured. After assignments were finished, or when free time was given, she would always have a book propped up at her desk and become immersed in her own imagination. Wendy was a day dreamer. "Someday," she thought to herself, "I will meet a wonderful man and have a true romance." Long lectures, for Wendy, were spent day dreaming about the class hottie, mysterious new transfer student, captain of the lacrosse team, or even the young TA grading papers in the corner of the room. She carried with her trendy magazines as well, but these were full of celebrity gossip and drama within the musical world.

In Delma's backpack could be found the latest teen romance novel. She loved to let herself fall in love with the main characters. She also kept books on cooking and gardening, as were her hobbies on the nights and weekends. Sure, some of her classmates would snicker as they passed her reading a copy of Modern Cake or Sprouts and Seeds but she would simply ignore them and go back to planning her garden for the upcoming spring or deciding on which pastry she would roll that night. Despite the girls snickering, they would be sure to make a visit to the dormitories kitchen and see what sort of dessert Delma had whipped up and left for her classmates to enjoy.

After three morning courses had passed, the students would all make their way to the cafeteria for lunch. As the dormitories contained a kitchen, students were welcome to make their own lunches as well as order from the stalls. Food from all over the world was available to eat. A student could grab a bowl of noodles that had been first created in the East, a small box of fried tenders with spices from the South, a healthy beverage containing ingredients only found in the West, and top it off with a dessert which had its origins in the frigid North.

Arista had never brought her own lunch. Why would she do such a thing when there were so many tasty things to eat? Fast food was her favorite. Anything fried or cooked twice tasted like a little slice of heaven after a long, drawn out morning lectures and assignments. She always purchased a cherry soda as well. She loved the way the bubbles danced about her tongue, the coolness as it fell down her throat and the burst of energy afterwards from all the sugar and preservatives. If her grandmother had seen her, with a plate of fried chicken wings and an extra large glass of soda, Arista would have heard some harsh words. Having growing up in a small village in the mountains, she had no idea this kind of food could ever exist. Back home she had grown up on lean meats, fish, whole grains, vegetables, and milk. She hated the milk, and had not allowed a drop of the foul white liquid to pass her lips since she first laid eyes on the cafeteria's bright colors and had smelled the dizzying aromas wafting from the stove tops.

Wendy was unsure of what to expect at lunch time, this being her first time in the cafeteria. She had packed a small salad and bottle of water from the dormitory kitchen that morning just in case. To her delight, however, she found that the cafeteria would gladly cater to her tastes. She was extra fond of strawberry milkshakes and there was a stall that would whip up a smoothie in any flavor you could ask for, with additional energy boosters and protein to keep a girl going throughout the second half of the day. The smell of strawberries reminded her of her sisters and the summer she spent at their farm in the North. She imagined herself sitting in the fields with a basket at hand, making sure to only pick the juiciest and plumpest of the small fruits for the fancy pies and desserts they would be baking that evening. They would leave a handful in a bowl of sugar and in the morning enjoy the syrupy compote over fresh griddle cakes or sweet breads. The stall in the very middle of the aisle served up fresh fish rolls and sushi. The smell of fresh fish reminded her of her father out at sea. She bought a box of red snapper ngiri and a spicy tuna roll and wondered sadly if her father had caught any snapper or tuna recently.

Delma was always prepared for lunch. With her lunch card, she quickly picked up a salad from one of the local markets stalls and poured herself a cup of hot water from the coffee machine. The thought of drinking coffee turned her stomach but the hot water was quite useful for making a cup of tea. She kept a box of raspberry or cherry tea in her backpack, in one of the smaller compartments. Not only did this make sure that her school books would smell fresh all day, but it also made sure that she would be able to enjoy a cup at lunch time. As long as sugar and a spoon for stirring would be available, Delma would be content at lunch time. She always packed a piece of cake or a pastry she had baked recently. It made for the perfect dessert, and they were always light and fluffy. Despite the wide range of culinary options available to her there was nothing quite like a bite of something you had baked yourself. She did not think of her parents at lunch time. Father rarely was home for dinner or lunch, and always had left before Delma had a chance to wake up for breakfast. She did, however, think of a particularly kind nanny that had taught her how to bake and measure. Delma would be in charge of packing the brown sugar or sifting the flour out in order to make the dough and batters that would shortly there after become cookies and cakes. Because of this, she would day dream about opening her own little cake shop someday.

Near the end of the day, in between classes, more personal items would be seen in the reflections of the students' eyes and in their tiny hands.

Arista carried postcards from home. They were from her grandmother, the local fishermen, other children from the village, and the leader of her Temple. Arista was the first child from the village to receive a full scholarship to any university in the nation, and the leaders had decided on Rainshire. As such, her mail box was never empty. There would always be questions from the younger children, advice from the Temple leader, inspiration from her grandmother, and news from the fishermen about the general state of the town. Her free time between classes would often be spent writing long letters out to her village. The details would be long and mundane; every little thing she saw would be new and exciting to folks who had never seen the city lights. She wrote about the hardness of the steps to the library, the clarity of the water in the fountain out in the garden, and the exciting aromas wafting from the cafeteria each afternoon. She also carried, in her front pocket, a small bag of candied cherries sent to her each month from home. They were delicious, the freshness the cherries combined with the natural preservative made out of clover honey. When the cafeteria was out of cherry soda, she found that dropping a pair of candied cherries into a bottle of seltzer would make something almost as tasty.

Wendy carried photographs of her parents, as well as letters from her father and sisters. Her mother was always too busy to write, but she heard news of her at the Seashire University every now and then from the newspapers. Her father always took photographs while out at sea and made sure to send her the best ones with their locations on the back. She had seen the sunrise over an iceberg, dolphins jumping through the fog, and schools of fish following a fishing boat curiously, and all from her mailbox. Her sisters would send photos of their farm. Wendy could smell the fresh strawberries and blueberries that they had planted. She could hear the ponies neighing in the background. She could feel her sisters' arms around her, holding her close, and telling her how much she was missed, and loved.

Delma carried a satchel of tea and raspberry leaves. The scent reminded her of home, of her enormous and always busy kitchen. Although shy, it was in the middle of a large group that Delma felt most comfortable. The raspberry leaves were a throw back to her small garden, on the edge of the cherry tree grove. She had asked her father one day for a raspberry bush, to bake into pies, and the next season they were in full bloom. Delma often wore flowers in her hair. It did not matter what kind, as long as they were in season and fresh. In the one photograph she had of her mother, she had been wearing a silk veil with dozens of tiny flowers tied into the fabric and cascading down her hair. The flowers in Delma's hair gave her a sense of comfort whenever she thought of her father, and wondered where he would be working that night.

At Rainshire Private Academy, each student is expected to carry a backpack. This backpack should contain all of the required supplies and books set forth at the beginning of the school year. What they should also contain are memories and reminders to the students that they are not only students, but also young men and women with their own identities, feelings, and hearts.