It happened at 8.

The clock struck 9 and she entered the room with concentration and a stern countenance.
The severity of her voice and the absolute incongruity of her clothing were striking.
Not inviting by any means of the imagination.
I was her prisoner. In my mind I had done nothing to deserve this.
She talked incessantly while I was continually silenced.
I yearned desperately for an escape from the horror of monotony and no choices.
The window was there though. And I could walk into the meadow of my mind through that window.
And so I began to be a bird who can fly and to build airplanes in the sky for those like me
Forts were constructed with second floors and elaborate hiding places and of course porches and stairs. Skies were blue out this window and forts magnificent. Flying was second to nothing else because I could be free with the air beneath my "wings".
Day after day, the contrast between my window and her seeming total lack of interest in me as a person, grew more stark.
But then one day I found also, that a fellow prisoner was engaging and very funny. It was the beginning of my carefully planned strategizing to come crashing to the ground.
Soon Mrs. Stern Countenance pounced upon our silent delightful chattering, which was forbidden.
We were soon laboring over  written punishments such as could take a life time to complete. Shame and anger and the gross lack of justice were unshakeable as tears rolled incessantly upon paper and desk.
And that day I changed, and knew that my window world and that of my friend would never have the same appealing delight they once represented.
The reality of no control and no freedom settled in, though not without a secret rebellion that burned in my heart.
An acceptance was demanded by those who had the power to punish. In that surrender, school became an enemy and I became a victim .....and I grew up that year doing math and reading under the punishing eye of a stern countenance, who I don't think I ever crossed again.