Lighting at Latin

Alex Kaplan Ever since my middle school years at Latin, I’ve always noticed something peculiar about the lights at our school. It seems as if they are especially bright. I don’t mean beautiful-shiny-at-a-baseball-game bright or fashion-catwalk-photo-shoot bright. Instead, they are police-searchlight bright, strong enough to make you cower in their beams and freeze like a deer in the headlights of a Ferrari. I began noticing the strength of the lights when I would wash my hands in the bathroom during sixth grade. One morning, as I rinsed off the soap, I noticed a pimple or two that hadn’t been there when I’d looked in the mirror that morning. Peculiar, I thought, but not impossible. I paid it no mind until the same thing happened a few days later—except this time instead of just one or two unnoticed imperfections, there were five or six. I found this to be too hard to believe. Obviously I didn’t think I was looking into some sort of funhouse mirrorI’m not delusionalbut something was a bit strange. More and more, the bathroom lighting at Latin seemed far brighter than the lighting in my own bathrooms. I would wake up seemingly clear-faced, and upon using the bathroom at school be convinced otherwise. It was very bizarre. This led me to my conclusion, now long-held, that the lighting in front of the mirror (in addition to being unflattering) is unusually bright. I have no idea if this is true or not, nor why anyone would intentionally buy brighter bulbs for the bathrooms. I also haven’t seen the lighting in the girl’s bathroom for obvious reasons, so I can’t speak to the radiance of the bulbs in there either. All I know is the boy’s middle and upper school bathrooms. In any regard, it’s the weird little things that make a place special. And so, as strange as it is, to me, powerful bathroom lighting is an important part of Latin. ]]>