My First Day of School

parked outside a student apartment, right by the train station.

I woke up, took the kids down to my mom's house, and caught the train for my 1 hour ride to the University.  I had a spiral bound notebook, 2 pens, my kindle, and a 32oz bottle of water packed away in my backpack.  I was filled with some anxiety of the unknown and excited to be finally working towards my goal of getting a Bachelor's Degree.

As the train filled with people along the way, I realized that my being 36 years old and going to college wasn't as uncommon as I thought.  As the loaded train pulled to the University stop, I jostled my way off, scanned my student id card, and began my trek up the hillside to my class.

I made it only a little past the station when my calf muscles started wondering what I was up to.  By the time I walked under the roadway and started up the steps, by shins began to revolt.  I eased up on my pace just a bit in hopes that my shin splints would go away. Meanwhile all these agile, young, fit, children were zooming past me as if this hike was nothing but a routine stroll.

By the time I was halfway to my classroom I had to slow to a 90 year old woman's walking pace, but I was hoping I was pulling off the "I'm-sauntering-to-my-next-class-as-I-like-to-stop-and-smell-the-roses-and-enjoy-this-beautiful-campus" look.   Quite honestly I probably had the "what-am-I-doing-I'm-going-to-die" look instead.   As I reached my classroom, I was hot, sweaty and in much need of my bottle of water.  I sat down, and proceeded to gulp all 32 wonderful, blessed ounces.

My professor walked in carrying her Bruce Springsteen bag and bottle of water. I started to question her qualifications immediately.  (I mean, really, Bruce Springsteen?!)

She welcomed all of us to English 2020 - Introduction to Literary Forms.  We each took a turn introducing ourselves and what we were majoring in.  The syllabus was passed out and she outlined what to expect this semester and what is expected of us.

Looking through the schedule I saw that we would be reading quite a few short stories, Willa Cather's book The Professor's House, Steinbeck's Travels with Charley, that we would be reading and then watching the movies "The Fly" and "Where the Wild Things Are."

And then, right there on the last page, "Thunder Road" by Bruce Springsteen.  I can read it, as long as I don't have to listen to it.  (Now, I'm sure there are plenty of you out there that like and probably own all of Springsteen's albums, so I will say that I do have an aversion to him, but it is not hate filled disgust.  I hope that admission will put me back in good standing with you.)

She then explained that not everything will be in the book and that she will post those reading on canvas and if we will look on canvas on occasion there will be other things there as well.  I'm writing this down and thinking "Is she going to tell us where on campus these readings will be?...What time will these readings take place? Will I have to come up here on my off days to hear these readings on campus?"   Once I realized she was saying the word "canvas"...I was no better enlightened.

After class, I heard another student ask her what canvas meant.  I quickly stepped over and she showed us that it is a link from our student page to the class page.  "Ohh!....It's a link!...on the computer!..." I think I now have a slight understanding of what it feels like to be out of sync with the lastest stuff (ha! computer pun! did you see that?!)

I'm excited for this class and what we are going to be reading.  I am, however, anxious about my ability to find the deep, hidden meanings in the stories, and my ability to write a concise, well thought out paper.  Here's hoping my literary muse will show up soon!