as my icicle fingers clutched my composition notebook and i strode across campus to class, i was struck with the thought, the ridiculous thought, that this seemed mundane to me. me, a student, at a big name university. granted it’s one class and it’s not for anything other than life enrichment and the fact i get a massive discount because i also happen to work at said big name university. but i know the campus enough to know to glance up right after i pass that brick building because that’s when i can see the digital clock at the top of the square. 7:22. i was early, but the winter temperatures seeped into my autumn coat and increased my pace.
finally inside, the warmth relaxed my cheeks into a smile which grew when i ran into a classmate. i was headed down the hallway opposite our classroom because i needed to power my rudolph red nose. she saw me, shook her head, and started to walk the same direction as me. “i can’t believe i was going the wrong way.” i slowed, put my hand on her arm, and spun her back around, “no, no, you were right. i’m not headed to the classroom yet.” and there i was, giving directions in the hallways of big name university. how normal. how utterly NOT normal.
after class, the girl to my left and I were chatting about the final project when a frown appeared on her face. my brow wrinkled in response. “i’m not going to be here the week we discuss your piece. it’s the one class i’m missing.” i tried to read between the lines of her expression. she’ll still be able to read it because it’ll be accessible by all in the class, so was she sad because she’ll miss the professor’s odd comments? because she wants to hear everyone tear my work apart? “well, if it’s any consolation, i won’t be here next week, your week.” we both chuckled at the fairness/unfairness of it. “i’ll make sure to write extra notes on your paper before i post it,” i said.
Abigail Mumford 