For a second, she was disorientated.
She stood in the doorway, unwilling to enter but unable to leave.
Inside the room, chaos reigned.
Two toddlers were busy spreading glue in a widening circle around them on the plush carpet. Toxic fumes wafted from the glue bottle.
Another group behind them was stomping a rhythm on a plastic play table, on which a crack was gradually widening. Underneath the table, scattered plastic bricks lay around, their sharp corners waiting to deal out some serious cuts to soft childish skin.
In the toilet, a group of early bloomers, not a single one over 5, was smoking. The cigarettes looked suspiciously homemade.
From her vantage point in the doorway, it looked like a nightmare.
(Fortunately, all this was a nightmare.)
Finally, she caught sight of a Grown-up who looked like she ought to be In Charge of this place. "Hey!" she yelled. "'Scuse me!"
The grown-up looked up from the comic she was reading. She didn't speak. Apparently, intruders like this were common... and annoying.
"They're running wild! They're going to kill themselves! Can you do something, please?"
She replied, eyes back on the colourfully illustrated pages: "Sorry, it wouldn't be fair. They want to run wild, see. Can't be so mean as to teach them self-control, all that stuff. It all works out right in the end, anyway. Natural selection and all that. Just wouldn't be fair."
Short of whacking said teacher on the head with a Mongo Bat, she turned on her heels and left.
And so went another attempt to make things better.
A brick wall would be more receptive
When it's grown-ups who won't listen to our sensible suggestions, that's how it feels.