"Days of The School"

"1.2.2022"
A day when the dreams of every Myanmar citizen were crushed.

The tanks rolled in at dawn.

By sunrise, the military had seized control—not with debates or ballots, but with the crack of gunfire and the weight of boots on throats. The government was gone. The streets fell silent. And just like that, our future was erased.

I am Aung Min, an ordinary 12th grader in Myanmar.

Today was supposed to be the start of my final school year—the year I’d prove myself, the year I’d escape this town with a university scholarship. Instead, it’s the day my high school life ends.

Outside my window, the birds still sing. The sun still rises. The neighbor’s dog barks at nothing, like the world hasn’t just shattered.

Somewhere, a teacher is erasing yesterday’s lesson from the blackboard.
Somewhere, a student is packing their bag, unaware classes will never resume.
Somewhere, a soldier is loading his rifle.

Yet, here I am- pencil in hand, sitting in a chair, listening to the teacher’s literature- pretending today is just another Monday.

Thiha slammed his sketchbook onto my desk, grinning like a madman.
"Hey! Aung Min… heard about Hla Win’s brother? Got snatched for ‘military recruitment’ last night."

I didn’t look up from the window. The street was too quiet—no motorbikes, just a stray dog licking at something near the gutter. "At this rate, we’ll be next," I muttered.

"Relax. I just finished my masterpiece—" He flipped the page to reveal a cartoon of our principal (a notoriously short man) being punted into the sun. "Title: ‘Dwarf Space Program.’"

I kicked his chair. "Keep your voice down, you idiot." The classroom walls had ears these days. "But yeah. Show your ‘editor.’"

Thiha winked. "Already slipped it into the junta’s bulletin board."

I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants as Thiha’s laughter echoed too loudly in the tense classroom air. The open window suddenly felt dangerous, like an invitation. Outside, two soldiers in olive-green uniforms paused their patrol, their eyes scanning our school building. One tilted his head slightly—had he heard?

"You're going to get us both killed," I hissed, slamming the sketchbook shut. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet.

Thiha just rolled his eyes, but I saw his fingers tremble as he took the book back. "Since when did you become such a—"

A sharp knock at the classroom door cut him off.

We froze.

The doorknob turned with agonizing slowness.