I'd worked at a particular elementary school for several years before I learned that it had... a basement.
I was mesmerized by this information. I'd had no idea there was so much going on down below the very halls I traversed daily! I had never seen any evidence of stairs leading anywhere, so how could there be this whole other floor to this building?
According to a book detailing the folklore of the school district, there was, in fact, a basement in this school. The book noted that the first graduating class of sixth graders actually got to take a tour through the basement "tunnels" as a treat. I was filled with envy. Kids had explored this hidden realm, and yet I, lover of all things old and mysterious, had not?
My interest in the school's mysterious basement was further piqued one day, when on a work break, I passed the custodian's closet. The door was open. I saw, on the far wall, another door with a sign that read "tunnel entrance." Aha! So that was the way in.
The custodian happened to be nearby. I began peppering him with questions. I asked if he had spent much time in those tunnels. He said he'd been down there many times. He explained that there were two entrances -- ladders -- and told me where the other one was. He told me how far the tunnels went (pretty much all under the original school's foundation... not the later additions).
Then he told me something else: "There are some weird things down there."
The custodian happened to be nearby. I began peppering him with questions. I asked if he had spent much time in those tunnels. He said he'd been down there many times. He explained that there were two entrances -- ladders -- and told me where the other one was. He told me how far the tunnels went (pretty much all under the original school's foundation... not the later additions).
Then he told me something else: "There are some weird things down there."
"Like what?"
"Oh, boxes. An old school desk. And an old-time sewing machine."
"I'd love to go down there," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. (I'm 99% sure I didn't pull it off.)
To my surprise, he replied, "Sure... whenever."
Less than a month later, accompanied by a friend, a flashlight, a camera, and a bicycle helmet, I descended one of the two ladders into the depths of this nearly sixty-year-old elementary school.
The first "weird" thing I encountered was this box of old records and report cards....
School records in and of themselves aren't weird. It's just that no school, as far as I know, typically keeps report cards from thirty years ago....
Next we found a box of tiles. This school pulled up its tile floors ages ago, so there's no need for spares. And yet...
This was the sewing table the custodian had mentioned. Alas, it was not as old as I was hoping. I mean, I shouldn't have expected a 150-year-old Singer to be sitting in the basement of a 60-year-old school, but that's how my brain works.
Next, we encountered an extremely ancient relic...
Was this what I thought it was? Was this actually one of the ropes they used to have hanging in the gym? The ropes we kids used to have to climb in order to earn the coveted "E" on our P.E. report cards?
Or maybe it was for a random game of tug o' war.
Next to the rope, there were a bunch of these... filters...?
Then we found this... art table?... with an ominously-stained butcher paper lining....
A look down the "tunnel" and a glimpse at the "old school desks."
Again, I was a bit disappointed, having expected older desks. We used desks like these back in the 80s (along with other types), so these just felt... familiar.
We began to approach the door on the far end of the passageway, and I was reminded of that scene in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory where the hallway gets smaller and smaller the farther you go.
At least it wasn't totally dark down there...
My friend chose to stay in the main passageway, so I entered the second passageway solo, now crawling on my hands and knees. The ceiling here was much lower -- maybe 3 feet. I took a left. It was hot, stuffy, and very eerie....
Time-out corner?
Thanks to markings on the wall, I knew approximately where I was -- what rooms/hall I was underneath.
^The passageway's ceiling was made of this metal shed-roof-type stuff.
After I'd crawled 2-3 classroom lengths, I came to a part of the tunnel where pipes criss-crossed the width. I'd have had to really crawl low if I wanted to proceed. I decided I did not want to do that. Besides, the custodian had told me there wasn't really anything interesting beyond that point.
On my way back to the ladder, I noticed a few things I'd missed on my first pass...
A bedframe?
"Remove." Probably written by a sixth-grade teacher circa 1991, who had no idea this desk would end up here.
Light fixture thingies... the school hasn't used these types of lights in decades.
These look like the things they put butcher paper on.
Ceiling tiles! Did anyone else used to stare up at them, trying to count the holes?
^A look down one of the other "corridors...." How I wished I had a vacuum!
Christmas decor! To be fair, we had to tread lightly around holidays, since our students came from so many different backgrounds, but we occasionally did decorate... just, apparently, not with these poor, forgotten items.
Near the ladder/entrance, some random projectiles had found their final resting place, it seemed...
Time to go back up...
One last look...
My journey had come to an end. But I left satisfied. Sure, I'd gone in expecting to see things that were "old," only to encounter a lot of things from my own school days. But what mattered was that I had seen The Basement with my own eyes at last. I'd been in the "tunnels" that I'd read about once upon a time. I had seen the dust and the grime and the creepiness for myself.
It was a grand little adventure.
