As an unfortunate bi-product of construction, many teachers and their classes have been forced out of their comfortably sized classrooms, and transplanted into the loathsome portables. These portables struggle to fit a whole class inside, quickly becoming cramped with desks, students, and backpacks on the floors. The temperature can be erratic, varying from boiling hot in summer to should-have-packed-my-parka cold. Even the doors pose a potential hazard: students eager to leave their classes swing the doors out, easily decking the odd freshman boy, kid on crutches, or well, me.

‘Portable City’ has become part of Liberty’s culture this year—infamous in its inconvenience and uniting us in crankiness and complaints. And yet somehow, I can’t help but be grateful for it.

A vast majority of our high school lives are spent inside, especially if you’ve spent any time in the windowless 500 wing.  Natural light is actually crucial in preventing a vitamin D deficiencies and seasonal mood disorders. Unfortunately, fake windows don’t help (sorry math teachers!). Having classes with windows and passing periods filled with fresh air is something to be thankful for.

I’m also thankful that I only rarely have to walk through crowded hallways that characterized so many passing periods last year. No longer must students be shoved aside by a line of upper classmen spanning the whole hallway, or stuck behind that couple who probably couldn’t beat a snail on sedatives in a race. Being in the portables allows for more freedom of movement; though it’s a small victory, it’s a victory nonetheless.

Perhaps the greatest cause for thanks, however, is what the portables signify. They represent the small sacrifices we must make for our imminent new school. We are lucky enough to live in a community where school renovations are a possibility. I am grateful that Liberty has and will receive the modern finish and facilities that its talented and dedicated students, teachers, athletes, and thespians deserve.  So while our current classroom situation may be filled with small blessings and more character-building than we’d like, living in the portables is not something to complain about, but something to be grateful for.

But it in the interest of honesty, I must confess—I’m also thankful for umbrellas.