SS NO. 8 Fitzroy / Fitzroy Public School

Any signs of play lie long forgotten. The basketball hoop is stained with rust, similar to the chains of the swing set that remain unused by the children it once entertained.

The back of the building is a portable, the back door attaching to the hallway leading to the rest of the school. So much has been left behind. A grey chair faces the wall, a small red ball next to it. Stains splatter the chair and dirty carpet. An overhead light hangs from it’s feeble wiring, the electricity long since shut off.

The end of the hallway is a small kitchen, the yellow paint once vibrant peels form the walls and scatters the ground, which also hosts Playboy magazines and cigarette butts, existing in stark contrast to the childlike innocence brought by the surrounding educational materials and chalkboards.

The basement is unassuming at best. The bathroom and its surrounding walls are kicked in, drywall covering the sinks and toilets. Outdoor light falls through a broken window, likely kicked in to gain entry, and the emergency exit door remains boarded up at the bottom of an exterior staircase leading down from the yard into the dank room. The only sign of any life of children is a small blue disc sled against the painted brick.

In the basement lies a boiler room adjacent to a small office, where a yellow jacket hangs forgotten above a desk of administrative paperwork and fire escape plans. Of course such work is necessary for the safety of instructional staff and students, though I found these left behind to be tragically ironic given the institution’s ancient history.