First day at school…

You’re probably wondering about my first day at school.

Well, after my mommy dropped me off and we cried, I…

Then again, why don’t I tell you about my first day back at college, my first day in my Junior year… which should last several dozen months… This being my first semester back, Vicky and I both thought it would be good to start slow. I signed up for something familiar: Philosophical Argumentation and Writing. After nearly fifteen novels, it would be embarrassing to fail that class!

With last night being the first night of class, I parked amidst the sea of cars and, having given myself plenty of time in case I ran late, found myself intolerably early. With over a half hour until class, what was I to do? Well, I figured I might as well head on over to the classroom. After all, the walk might take some time and – I found myself at the entrance to the building in less than five minutes. Okay… what now? There certainly were a lot of people there – young people. Cute chicks who might think, “You’re my daddy’s age,” and young guys thinking they could knock me over and take my money while my hip broke.

Yeah, it’s great going back to school at this age.

My classroom is on the fifth floor so I had to queue up for the elevator. Next time, I’ll be sure not to go in the shoes with the slippery soles so I can take the stairs without worrying about falling and, of course, breaking my hip. The queue was immense and there were only a few elevators. People crammed into them the way you might have seen residents of India boarding a commuter train. When I finally found my way in – actually pushed by the mass of people – I seriously thought, “There’s no way this is going to make it.” And yet, it did somehow, in the way you don’t expect elevator accidents on your way to class. Had this been an office building or a department store, I’m sure we would have died in an instant. I kept hoping someone would get off the elevator on the second, third, or fourth floors – but, no. In fact, nobody got off on the fifth floor but me. Actually, most of the elevator de-boarded as I said, “Excuse me, this is my floor” and then, grudgingly, got back on to proceed to six. I hoped they were getting off their. I didn’t seriously think the elevator would shoot through the roof on the way to Wonka’s factory. At least, I didn’t see a red button.

Anyway, I was glad to be in the relatively open expanse of the fifth floor hallway – that is, until I saw all the “fresh paint” signs. Someone, undeniably NOT a college grad and undeniably NOT giving a shit, had painted the enclosed hallway just minutes before so the fumes hung heavily in the hall and no one dared move within a foot of a wall. That way, madness lay… and paint-stained purses, I expect. I can’t honestly say no one dared moved within a foot of the wall because – I did. When I found my classroom, I looked at my watch and, seeing I had twenty minutes to go until class began, leaned against the opposing wall.

And jumped back.

I looked at the wall. I looked at my clothes. Again, I looked at the wall. No paint. At all. It turned out that the one area that hadn’t been painted was across from my classroom. Imagine that – and I could have played the lottery, instead.

The classroom had two doors. One read “Lecture”. The other read “Classroom”. I thought, does is make a difference which door you enter like some Alice in Wonderland – or Alice Goes To College – kind of world?

I entered the door for Lecture, preferring a good nap any day, and found only one person within. I asked, “Is this Philosophy 315?”

He looked up. “Hrrrm?”

I repeated the question, adding, “Philosophical Argumentation and Writing?”

He said, “Oh, the English class and stuff? Yeah.” And went back to being baked.

This was going to be interesting.

I won’t bore you with the details of the class, suffice it to say it actually is an “English class and stuff” – that is, it is a philosophical writing course with an emphasis on proper grammar (god forbid). As the class closed, the instructor asked people about the best thing they’d done all summer. Here were some responses. You can imagine my amusement… and envy.

“I saw Poison. It was epic!”

“I drank…………………………… a lot.”

“I slept over ten hours each day.”

Yeah. This will be fun.