Follow Your Dream

The old school at the end of the cul-de-sac had stood empty for some time. No little feet ran through the gym, no laughter echoed in the classrooms, no smell of mildewing lunches in cubbies permeated the halls. It had been years since Bellshore Public had been a working elementary school. Now the vines grew across the outside of the old brick and cinder block walls. The windows were mostly all painted shut, and the doorways were covered with plywood, and some were chained with heavy iron locks. In the playground, the old play structures had weeds and shrubs growing around them, and were rusting from lack of care. Some of the walls had been tagged by local graffiti artists, and the concrete around the rest of the yard had heaved and buckled with time and the shifting earth underneath. The school was one of those buildings that had seemed to just always be there. The neighbors couldn’t remember a time before it was built, and now that it had withered with disuse, the community mainly pretended it wasn’t there -- an eyesore, but mostly an invisible one. Except for the urban explorers. They loved the school and all the antiquated items found inside. It made a perfect subject for their photography. They had found secret ways of getting inside, and once inside they skulked about snapping shots of torn basketball nets, piles of desks, mountains of old rotting textbooks, broken cubby hooks and just about anything else they could find that looked like “urbex art”. Seth Collins was one of these young urban explorers. Just shy of 22, and still living at home with his parents, he had taken a gap year to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, and while working shifts at a local photography shop, he discovered that what he loved was capturing a beautiful and original photograph.

The sun was shining brightly, and the weather was mild, on the last Saturday of April that year. Seth had set out early, after downing a large cup of black coffee from his favorite pottery mug. He arrived at the crumbling path that led to Bellshore Public School, and pushed open the patinated gate. When he reached the main door of the school building, he knew that he would have to find another way to enter, as the door had been fully blocked by a plywood barricade. As he turned slightly to his left and followed the wall with his eyes, he noticed a service door that wasn’t covered in wood. In fact, it didn’t even seem to be locked, let alone fortified. He gave the handle a slight tug and the door opened. Seth knew this was from other urban explorers who had been there before him, and he was thankful for the easy access point. He slid inside and quietly closed the door behind him. While the sun was filtering through the long horizontal windows near the ceilings running throughout the corridor, Seth’s eyes still needed some time to adjust to the general dimness in the building. As he walked along the hallway he had his camera poised and ready to catch any interesting vignettes he might spot. He began his exploration by visiting the main lobby of the school.

As his eyes grew more and more accustomed to the light in the lobby, he began to notice little details-- a few papers strewn across the floor, some old pencils in the corner, a few textbooks still stacked on a table, the old wooden benches and planters, now empty, in the main entrance area. He sat and tried to imagine what the school must have been like in its bustling, energetic prime. He could almost hear the chatter, the laughter, the music of everyday school life, ringing through the hallways. Seth had always been a somewhat reserved student, more of an observer than a participant. He always thought that’s what had drawn him towards urban photography. The camera could capture his observations and be the voice that he was lacking. He brought his camera to his eye and began to snap some images. As he tilted his head up, he got a few cool shots of the broken and graffitied acoustic ceiling tiles before moving on. He looked around and decided to go towards the old Language wing of the school.

Seth turned the corner of the Language wing and began to enter some of the old classrooms. There is an unwritten ethical code in urban exploring based on a saying from the 19th century Native American chief, Chief Seattle of the Duwamish Tribe. “Take only memories, leave only footprints”. Seth liked the edit, “Take nothing but photographs, leave nothing but footprints, keep nothing but memories.” And so, he always did his best not to touch or move anything in order to take his photos. Seth always felt it was a bit dishonest to “create” his own vignettes out of the ruins, and preferred to shoot images of the way things were left naturally. Sure, it might look cooler to stack those textbooks on top of that desk and move it all under the window, but Seth didn’t want manufactured “ruin porn”, as it was known, he wanted authentic shots. He got a couple of neat shots of the crumbling blackboard, and then turned to enter a second classroom. This classroom was less battered than the last and even still had the teacher desk pushed into the corner of the room. From where he was standing in the doorway, Seth could see that the drawers were all still in the desk and the top right one was slightly open. Seth approached with his camera and began to take shots of the desk and the drawer, as the light from the windows was radiant and almost spotlight-like in its effect. As he paused to adjust his lens, Seth noticed a piece of an envelope sticking out from the underside of the drawer. Inside, he felt an ethical dilemma forming; do I take a peek or not? His curiosity got the better of him and he made a deal with himself that he would put the envelope back once he’d looked at it. As he began to pull, he realized that the envelope was actually tucked inside a small black notebook, perched on a ledge beneath the main part of the drawer. He lifted the drawer in order to maneuver the notebook out without damaging it, or the desk. As Seth pulled the book out, he noticed it was a hard-covered Moleskine brand notebook, with an elastic holding it closed, and the envelope was sticking out, well bulging out, of the bottom of it.

Seth gingerly pulled the elastic down and opened the notebook to its first page. Inside it had some basic “tombstone” information. It said, “Belongs to Miss Brookstone, Bellshore Public, 1982”. He opened the notebook to the page where the envelope was sticking out. On the left-hand side of the page there was some writing. Seth put the envelope down on the desk without opening it, even though he could sense it was quite thick and full. He read the message. “If you are finding this, then congratulations. I was a teacher at Bellshore, and since I never had any children, I decided that I would leave my money to someone lucky enough to find it, a windfall, if you will. I hid it in the school, as this is where I had my happiest, and also hardest days. Being a teacher is never easy, but it is amazingly rewarding. I was never paid a huge amount for teaching, but I only had myself to support, and so I managed to save quite a bit over my 30-year career. The money here is for you, whoever you might be, to chase your dream. My dream was to teach, and I valued every second of it. I made a difference in countless lives and that’s what has mattered most to me, and has given me the greatest joy. I know everyone has different values and priorities, and the only thing I ask is that you do not use this money to hurt anyone. Live happily and abundantly with my gift to you, Sylvia Brookstone.”

Seth put the notebook down and picked up the thick envelope again. He opened it slowly, hardly believing that this was happening. Inside the envelope was a stack of 1000 dollar bills*. As he counted them, Seth mentally added up 20, 000 Canadian dollars. He was shaking, and couldn’t believe it. He counted again. Same result. He was flabbergasted. He was also supremely conflicted. What about his urbex oath not to move or take anything??? What should he do?

Seth sat on the floor of the old classroom and thought about his situation. That money could really help him follow his photography passion, or even more so, pursue anything else he might dream of -- exactly the way that Miss Brookstone had intended. Not wanting to disregard someone’s last wishes, Seth decided that he would keep half of the money, and hide the rest to help make someone else’s dream a reality as well. He tucked 10, 000 dollars into his camera satchel, and tore the original note from the Moleskine. He grabbed a pen from his bag and wrote, “My name is Seth, I have 10, 000 dollars to give to someone to help follow their dream. My only wish is that you do not use this money to hurt someone else.” He tucked the book and the money under his arm and started his walk back toward the service door that he had used to enter the building. He left the language wing, and lobby, and turned toward the science wing. He entered a classroom.

Before he secreted the small notebook away behind some old bottles of formaldehyde and some beakers haphazardly stacked in the old science lab, Seth took out his pen one last time and wrote, “If you find this book and money, this is my gift to you. Live happily and abundantly, Seth Collins, 2019 ”.

(*Canada printed 1000 dollar bills until the year 2000.)