Today is my first day of classes. Many books, classrooms I haven’t yet found, and a sack of shiny new school supplies. All I need is a Garfield lunch box and a tub of paste.
This is also my first day as a writing consultant, a job in which I’ll help students with academic papers, application essays, creative writing assignments, and whatever else they come up with in hour-long, one-on-one sessions. After a week of training and countless “Hey, meet 15 new people while chewing on a dry sandwich!” lunch events it will be nice to get started with real business.
Oh, yeah, and I guess at some point I’ll write some stories. I think that’s what I’m here for.
I’ve posted before about the forgotten locker combination dreams I started having after I decided to go back to school. Guess what? I have a locker! It’s a locker with a key, so now I have to worry about losing a key rather than forgetting a combination. I can’t wait to see how that goes.
An observation: The new freshman housing palace on campus is ridiculously cool. It’s nicer than anywhere I’ve ever lived. Imagine luxury apartments inside a fancy mall with a dining facility that’s a modern take on Harry Potter’s Hogwarts dining hall. With a Bally’s fitness center inside. I haven’t been in the bathrooms yet but I’m guessing everything is gold-plated. I wouldn’t be surprised to be trampled by a squad of ninja butlers running around polishing railings and ironing copies of the student newspaper.
I won’t waste your time describing my undergraduate housing environment, other than to say it was probably state-of-the-art in 1952.
I was all wrong coming back to graduate school. Undergraduate school is where it’s at. I need to pick another major and reserve my palace accommodations. I take back all the things I said about private schools and the people who attend(ed) them.
{ 6 } Comments
Thanks a lot for reintroducing the idea of the locker dream! Now I know where my REM sleep will take me tonight.
And – CONGRATS. I’m so excited for you. It begins.
At least you don’t have roommates. Even in the swanky private school dorms I think a bad roommate could ruin it. My roommate freshman year (in a state school and not nearly as pimped out of a pad as you described) only ate canned green peas, smelled like chlorine and dirty gym socks and liked to watch TV naked.
That doesn’t sound all bad. I like peas and TV.
I don’t think I’m ready to transfer to Vandy, but can Vandy transfer here? I want those perks!
Ehhh, it’s not worth the downside: loss of soul, grasp of reality, and the like.
At some point the real world is going to slap some people in the faces. Or maybe not. Money can keep that from happening (so I’ve heard).
I had a back to school dream the same night! Except in mine I off-roaded on gravel on my way to campus, interrupted my boss and her meeting with the superintendent, located my student files in an archaic stack of record folders stowed behind an admonishing custodian, carried a stack of toilet paper into my classroom, late, with my students laughing at me as they milled outside the classroom, my co-teacher had blue hair, and I wasn’t wearing pants. I woke up saying “Ladies and Gentlemen” out loud, waking my author friend, who dreamed of an earthquake, in Portland.
Post a Comment