Western Academy. Two words that left a major impact on my life. This was not your typical lock down facility. It was a “Residential Child Care Facility” or RCCF as I will refer to it later if need be.
To say I was unique is an understatement. Not only was I the youngest student to have ever gone there, being only 10 years old at the time of my arrival, but, I spent more time there then any student before or after. Almost 6 years of my life. Also, I was the only student who lived there who had not been in trouble with the law.
I can’t be bothered to make up names and trying to remember what all of the codenames would be. There were a lot of people that lived there with me over those six years and I am sure that I will not be able to tell it in chronological order either, but, it is the stories that matter rather then the timeline.
Living at Western Academy, time seemed to have no meaning. It was one day after the other.
How they managed to convince anyone that turning an old church into a RCCF is beyond me, but they did it and, it wasn’t so bad, at least, not as far as I was concerned.
Downstairs, as you entered the building from the front, was a couch and a couple of plants. Straight ahead was a stairwell that disappeared upstairs and an office that was tucked back and to the left side of the stairwell. The office belonged to Clair and Bill, they were the owners, though very very seldom there. It was always a treat, at least for me, to have them there as I adored them almost instantly.
Immediately to the left of the entrance, was a door that led to an office. This was John’s office and he was head of operations. Not the owner, but, the man in charge. A few steps past this was a hallway to the left and a huge set of doors to the right.
Beyond those doors was my favorite place in the whole world. At least, it was when I was 10 years old. We called it “The Rec Room” which of course was short for Recreation. The moment you step in there was a hard green floor. Not tile, but, a flat all one piece green floor. Separating two sides of the room was a volleyball net. Further in was a pool table and not far beyond that was a stage. This was used as a podium obviously because just behind it was a boarded off area that, even in my time, held the baptismal font. On either side of the stage were doors that when opened up, held a storage area and a set of stairs that led into this baptismal font. The doors were kept locked almost all the time. The left side contained our sports equipment, as well as the pool sticks.
If we were in the Rec Room, there was a volleyball game going, a pool game going, and those who were involved in neither were settled up on the stage having whispered conversations or writing letters usually.
Once you step back out of the doors leading into the Rec Room, you are facing a long hallway. If you go down this hallway you will encounter the main office on the left and directly across from that was the counselor’s office. They shared an office and at any moment of the day there was someone in there having all the problems of their little world solved.
Right next to that was the laundry area, one washer, one dryer. Next to that, a room that I became way to familiar with that we will explore later.
Continue down and you came to the first of two classrooms on the right hand side. Nothing fancy, simply a classroom with a chalkboard and individual desks set up in rows of 4 and columns of 3.
Turning left at this point would take you down another hallway that led to the bathrooms. At the end of this hallway, on the left was the kitchen and on the right was a doorway that led to dining room. If you kept going, you would wind up outside again.
If you continue on instead of turning left past the first classroom, you came to the second classroom, same setup as the first. A few feet farther was another doorway leading to the outside.
That was the extent of the lower floor of Western Academy. With the exception of the room between the laundry room and the first classroom.
That was the “The Time Out Room”. It, like most of the walls in the place, had brown paneled walls, and a greenish blue carpet. It had a massive oak door that creaked when I was shut and the sound echoed throughout the room. There was no handle on the inside, at all.
This is where they tossed us when they felt we were “out of control”. I can’t describe the helpless feeling of being forced into a room and having the creaking of the door echoing in the small chamber, knowing that I was in there until someone else decided for me to let me out.
I hated that room with a passion. Sometimes they would put people in there and leave the door open, but, more often then not, if you were in there, you were alone, closed off, and for added punishment, they would turn off the lights and you would be left in the darkness with only your thoughts.
Have I also mentioned that I am also claustrophobic? Is this a coincidence? I do not think that it is.
I am tired of living my life suffering for the past. I know many people who have had it worse then me, if you haven’t, you should check out the links on my page and read some of their stories. They have turned out with happy lives, full of love and laughter. I need to find a way to do this and I am hoping by exploring all of this, putting it down where I can look back and see the things that were done to me, see how they effected me, I can change how I look at this, and how I let them effect me. I am tired of living in fear from the shadows and darkness. I am ready to battle it head on.
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