Yes, trepidation is the word. I don’t know why, but I’m dreading Monday, the first day of classes. I, who have my switchblade and come-on act down as pat as my Buster Brown rendition am afraid. I like the courses, and they should be interesting and one in particular should be exciting–the writing course, of course, but I’m still nervous as a kindergartener about facing life as a student among my peers. It’s not the instructors that make me anxious, I’ve had both before and they don’t hit you with rulers like the nuns used to do. It’s not the students; even though I’m much older usually than most, oldest upon occasion, I don’t feel out of place anymore after four years among them.
What then? The challenge of being up to the testing? Perhaps it is a bit of that–one does get tired of repeatedly having to prove oneself and be graded on effort. But I think it’s just the change, the lack of having Powerpoint’s ability to do a 6-second fade in. I’m a clinger to rocks, and tend to settle in comfortably until I’m poked out with a stick. Today I’m a picture framer, on Monday, I’ll be a student. Then in a few more months, I’ll be a graduate. Then maybe, just maybe, a formal student again.
My friend, Neha, was here for lunch today, and she is heading back to Seton Hill on Sunday. This upheaval after being home for five weeks (with her mom’s great cooking!) must be even harder to transition. But we move on, as we must, in order to find that settling-in place that we may need or want. I think I’ve just settled in a rut too long, got too comfy, and need to go out and seek some more.