School sitcom vs. real life:
Breakfast
TV: Mom, dad, and sibling(s) are leisurely occupying a sun-drenched kitchen while enjoying a breakfast feast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, milk, juice, sausage links, hamsteaks, hash browns, and omelettes. The main character briskly walks through, exchanges some witty banter, then heads out the open door in shorts and a t-shirt to walk to school with their BFF.
Life: It's pitch black outside. No one interacts with each other due to their different schedules. You pour yourself a bowl of sugary cereal to accompany your pop-tart before putting on your winter coat (since 90% of the school year is at least jacket weather unless you're in LA) before heading out into the teeth-chattering cold to wait at the bus stop unless you're old enough to drive.
School
TV: Since people apparently don't have classes, they instead opt to spend 90% of their time at their lockers, looking at their character-synopsizing locker decorations until someone inevitably comes by to discuss entertaining drama; drama which no one else notices since there are a sum total of 16 other people wandering casually through the hallway.
Life: You have negative 4 minutes to get from one class to another. More likely then not, you don't even have time to stop at your locker—due to the 10 people per square foot stepping on each other's heels to get to their next class—but if you do, the only person you see is your awkward locker neighbor, whose schedule you have memorized.
Lunch
TV: Despite the questionable nature of the cafeteria food, everyone nonetheless eats it. People drift from table to table to chat casually with their neighbors.
Life: People pack lunches of half-assed sandwiches and processed foods. The over-full seating, ominous proctors and peer-pressure status quo prevent people from ever moving around.
After school
TV: The kitchen and living room (which are always surgically clean) comprise a revolving door of entertaining action fed by a rotating cast of characters (such as next-door neighbors and relatives) who wander in and out unannounced. At dinner, the family sits down together over a home-cooked meal to discuss their day.
Life: On the rare occasion that two people's schedules permit them to occupy the same (messy) house at the same time, they spend it in opposite corners of the house with their eyes glued to various screens. But mostly, parents are at work or running errands; and kids, when not setting new historical precedents for overcommitment with their after-school activities and homework, are distracting themselves on the internet. Dinner—either takeout or something that came from a box—is deposited on the table to be collected whenever opportunity arises. Also, unless it's a classmate coming over to work on a group project, no one visits your house during the week—especially not the neighbors you barely know.
Breakfast
TV: Mom, dad, and sibling(s) are leisurely occupying a sun-drenched kitchen while enjoying a breakfast feast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, milk, juice, sausage links, hamsteaks, hash browns, and omelettes. The main character briskly walks through, exchanges some witty banter, then heads out the open door in shorts and a t-shirt to walk to school with their BFF.
Life: It's pitch black outside. No one interacts with each other due to their different schedules. You pour yourself a bowl of sugary cereal to accompany your pop-tart before putting on your winter coat (since 90% of the school year is at least jacket weather unless you're in LA) before heading out into the teeth-chattering cold to wait at the bus stop unless you're old enough to drive.
School
TV: Since people apparently don't have classes, they instead opt to spend 90% of their time at their lockers, looking at their character-synopsizing locker decorations until someone inevitably comes by to discuss entertaining drama; drama which no one else notices since there are a sum total of 16 other people wandering casually through the hallway.
Life: You have negative 4 minutes to get from one class to another. More likely then not, you don't even have time to stop at your locker—due to the 10 people per square foot stepping on each other's heels to get to their next class—but if you do, the only person you see is your awkward locker neighbor, whose schedule you have memorized.
Lunch
TV: Despite the questionable nature of the cafeteria food, everyone nonetheless eats it. People drift from table to table to chat casually with their neighbors.
Life: People pack lunches of half-assed sandwiches and processed foods. The over-full seating, ominous proctors and peer-pressure status quo prevent people from ever moving around.
After school
TV: The kitchen and living room (which are always surgically clean) comprise a revolving door of entertaining action fed by a rotating cast of characters (such as next-door neighbors and relatives) who wander in and out unannounced. At dinner, the family sits down together over a home-cooked meal to discuss their day.
Life: On the rare occasion that two people's schedules permit them to occupy the same (messy) house at the same time, they spend it in opposite corners of the house with their eyes glued to various screens. But mostly, parents are at work or running errands; and kids, when not setting new historical precedents for overcommitment with their after-school activities and homework, are distracting themselves on the internet. Dinner—either takeout or something that came from a box—is deposited on the table to be collected whenever opportunity arises. Also, unless it's a classmate coming over to work on a group project, no one visits your house during the week—especially not the neighbors you barely know.
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