untouchable!

Another semester underway and beginning to swing. I've met my freshmen--for twenty-six of them, I was the first college class they had--and run through what it is we're here to do, jumped around the huge computer lab, maybe even climbed the mountain of paper reams and challenged them to an acronym-off. One section is bright and loud and full. One section is quiet and has eight.  

Eight.

As I told them on the second day: This is going to be a little strange for you. But I promise you, because we are so small, your writing is going to improve exponentially. Think of this as writing boot camp--feedback from everyone, one-on-one writing consultations. Of course, because we are only eight, if you're not feeling like talking or didn't do your work--don't even bother showing up. Because it's going to be pretty awkward trying to hide among the seven other people who did the assignment.

I also have creative writing as a night course, which is a pleasant change. Collapsing my normal twice-a-week calendar proved surprisingly easy, and the time means that more than a few of the students enrolled are nontrads--those who work forty hours a week and live real lives. Most of them look exhausted, and I'd like to think that a few hours a week of forcing their brains in a different direction might feel good. Of course, I could be totally fucking wrong and poetry is the biggest waste of time they've ever encountered.

But I like the first way of thinking about it, so I'll stick with that one.

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I woke up today thinking of Kato--something about the way the sun bounced through the curtains. I woke up and showered and bought myself a bagel as a reward for going out to the office to get a little bit ahead of schedule (don't worry, sometimes that takes the form of blogging). It reminded me of the early days of September during our last year in Minnesota, walking over to campus and feeling untouchable. It was a checklist I ran through: Headphones in! Sweater on! Leaves starting to turn red only at the very tips! Office to myself and a breeze coming in the window! Walk over to BER office to print off some poems and maybe even buy self a burrito on the way! Been here three years and have people to say hello to! UNTOUCHABLE!

I feel a little like that today, and in fact I feel so very good that I'm going to go ahead and commit a thought right here: No matter what the fuck happens in the next year, my life is probably going to be fine. Even writing that freaks me out a bit. February me, all gray and pissed off, is already rolling her eyes. You moron, she says. But it's true. Tell February (and March, and April? and July?) me to take it easy.

And even if it isn't--at least I know that no matter what happens to me today, I'm going to have a better day than roughly three thousand freshmen. They've already been here for two weeks, unpacked the boxes, watched the family drive the van away, suffered through the first awkward meals with everyone on the dorm floor, found the first classrooms. But then they went home for four days. And they remembered that they used to have friends and a room all to themselves. And now they had to come back, back to Andy in the other bed and Andy's untouched bar of soap, the weird meals taken at weird times because that's when everyone else is hungry, the heavy readings and the first essays assigned by (ahem) jackhole professors that are already due tomorrow.

*

Untouchable!