If you thought the stampede from The Lion King was bad, just wait until you see Spring-Ford High School’s senior wing hallway between the bells. I might as well be Mufasa, because it truly does feel like being tossed into a pack of rampant wildebeests, with no hope of survival.

It was nearing the end of second period, and I anxiously glanced at the clock, noticing there was only a minute left before the bell rang.

My leg bounced up and down in anticipation, and I carefully reached for my pencil pouch, tucking away my writing utensil and cautiously closing my notebook while keeping my eyes glued to the teacher. I winced when the sound of my pencil case zipping reached my ears, seeming loud and disruptive. The teacher glared at me disapprovingly.

We’re always taught to remember, “the bell doesn’t dismiss you, the teacher does.”

But it would be a major traffic jam if I didn’t make a mad dash out of the Physics classroom, located at the very end of the dreaded upstairs senior wing, to get to my next class…  which just so happened to be on the exact opposite side of the building.

Lucky me.

So, despite the sharp look, I continued on to put away my things, shoving my folder into my backpack with just enough time to hastily zip it up and throw it over my shoulder, joining the other students pouring into the hall.

The ring of the bell was the signal for freedom, and hundreds of students barged out of their classrooms, charging ahead with unnecessary speed and carelessness. Bodies were forced together, in extremely close proximity, pushing past each other in an uncomfortable and frankly, very weird way.

By the time I reached the stairs, I was already out of breath. But that wasn’t even close to the end of it. Backpacks pummeled me left and right, almost making me stagger or lose my balance, but I clung to the railing to support myself. I’d made it this far, I wasn’t going to let some fifty pound mass of books take me down now.

I stayed glued to the railing until I reached the last step, taking a very brief breath of relief before being thrust into the next stampede of people.

I tried to weave my way through the masses, but it was no use. Instead, I was the one being pushed back by uncaring jocks and feisty teenagers who would fight tooth and nail just to reach the end two seconds before I did. And just when I thought I was done being jostled, I reached the construction area of the hallway.

Although it didn’t look much narrower, I could feel the squeeze of people around me get tighter, and I had to remember to keep my head up to gasp for air in the claustrophobic mob. I sucked in a breath in hopes of shrinking my size just enough to slip through the cracks between people, but I still felt like a steel ball in a pinball machine being thrown back and forth.

I would have never thought that hallway traffic could get as bad as rush hour on Route 422, but when I realized four minutes had already passed, and I was barely halfway to my next class, I had a grave realization. It was worse.

Finally, after the stop-and-go traffic proceeded for another thirty seconds, I had reached the end of the grueling hallway, pretty much looking like I had just been tousled in a blender.

Now, I had fifteen seconds to make it down the now empty hallway leading to the 100s. So I ran.

I ran until I was out of breath, practically on my knees and panting as I burst into the classroom, with no time to spare as the bell rang the second I walked in.

Again, the teacher gave me a disapproving look. I sheepishly walked to my seat.

It was relief. Well, sort of.

I would only have to go through it all over again a couple hundred more times before the year was over.

So, Spring-Ford, is it really possible to get to class in five minutes from one end of the building to the other?

Maybe.

But not unless you make a run for it.