I was given the honor to deliver the High School graduation speech on behalf of my class. I was supposed to make everybody feel good, but there was a tiny detail I could not overlook.

For five years, which is the time High School last here, I never saw any of our custodians (and we had quite a few) clean any windows. There were many other things they never did, but I developed this sort of fixation with the windows. Maybe, that was a reflection of how often I got bored and how much contemplation I entertained. There was actually nothing interesting to see out of the windows.

In all the classrooms I attended, down or upstairs, the view was far from entertaining. Our high school was just one more of the many that were built in the 70s. Same boring gray design, prison-looking, no greens, no sports facilities, no pretty houses in the vicinity.

Since my freshman year, every time I sat by a window, or found myself looking through them, I noticed they were filthy. The filth was actually the one thing I remember. It stopped me from my lucubration. I can’t recall one single thing that went through my mind in those years, but I can’t forget the dirty windows.

So, when the time came for me to deliver some sort of inspirational speech in front of the whole school, with tons of parents and visitors wearing their best clothes, to say good bye to our educational home and to all the people who allegedly helped us build some character for our future academic, social, and civil challenges, I did not find it in me to follow my best friend’s dad’s advice. He had proofread my speech and suggested that I mention and thank every personnel, as part of the protocol.

He was actually the master of ceremony and after praising my speech when I was done, he got close to me and whispered in my ear, “Why didn’t you mention the custodians?”
“The windows,” I said. “Even today, they are dirty.”