We are not allowed to leave the compound, so class field trips tend to be localized; for instance, this week we visited the bathroom. As each stall offers homage to a different deity, the students were segregated and left to autonomous explorations of the toilet, which is also a well, so with string spun from fine-knotted hair and hooks built from braces each team went sewer fishing while Annabelle and I read letters from the home office written backwards in the mirror. The walls decorated with dyes squeezed from hand soap and urinal blocks and flags flown from toilet paper, soon enough each stall became its own nation, and the flourishing of under-divider commerce taught truer lessons than any of the gibberish textbooks the temporary government sends us in dump trucks every other Monday. I felt a sense of purpose swelling as the miniature cretins learned to haggle and barter, and I told Annabelle we should never return to the learning center, we should spend the remainder of the semester in our bathroom classroom, but she was pleasuring herself with the hand dryer and paid me no mind.

Our bathroom exercises have proven extremely effective in counteracting familial and social antiprogramming, and as we guide exercises in identifying parental figures not through face or voice recognition but gential detail drawn again and again across the pages of the repurposed Consumer Responsibility and Proper Intersocial Defense Postures workbooks we have requisitioned from the supply closet. Annabelle has made the Index Librorum Prohibitorum the class reading list, which has rapidly led to a series of discoveries by the brighter children. Three of the children have collectively taken on the pseudonym Frater Dismalismus and began working on a practical grimoire for Kid Lib mystic revolutionaries using a cipher modified from the Risalah fi Istikhraj al-Mu'amma which I have so far been unable to crack. Annabelle says the children have shown her the key, and they have regularly taken to discussing its deeper mysteries while occasionally pointing at me and laughing, at which point I turn off the lights until they apologize. Nothing worse than having someone turn off the lights when you're in the bathroom.

Rommel was known to place propellers behind transport trucks in order to stir up dust, disguising his movement and giving the enemy a distorted sense of scale, and Frontin reports "When Ptolemy with a weak force was contending against Perdiccas's powerful army, he arranged for a few horsemen to drive along animals of all sorts, with brush fastened to their backs for them to trail behind them. He himself went ahead with the forces which he had. As a consequence, the dust raised by the animals produced the appearance of a mighty army following, and the enemy, terrified by this impression, were defeated". One child, whose school-name is Babylon, took to a similar tactic with shredded toilet paper, creating a kind of blizzard whose whiteness blinded the eyes of the other children while he escaped into a closet.

the exit is hidden within the exit