First Days... (300)

I love the first days of school. I always loved them growing up and now that I’ve become something of an adult, I love them still. The feeling is one of rebirths and fresh starts. I feel it even more strongly than the New Year, and I suspect I’m not alone. New notebooks and folders, fresh pens, blank 3x5 cards – it’s all part of the joy of autumn (spring, too, but the pull in fall is so much stronger). There’s a palpable energy in the air – sometimes fed by the thrill of coming or coming back, and sometimes fed by the fear of the days ahead. Often, it is a mixture of both, etched in nervous smiles and eyes that dance from folded squares of paper to room numbers. Hurried feet retrace recent paths to find an obscure room that is the other way down a hallway that looks the same as every other hallway. The mornings are chilly and the halls are bustling with new outfits, clean sneakers, and stiff book bags. Each classroom is near bursting with muted curiosity and intimidation, books are uselessly shuffled and eyes cast side-long glances at the other desks, wondering if the faces will be friends, or at least comrades-in-arms. Every newcomer in the room is secretly scrutinized, the perception and judgment shifting if he or she joins the students. All wonder who will fill the front of the room, and the expectation and trepidation keeps conversations hushed. It is in this moment that the tone for the weeks ahead is set – it is in this moment of first impressions and hopefully pleasant surprises unfold. A moment that cannot be replicated, cannot be rehearsed, and cannot be imagined. A moment when potential, optimism, and a little fear roll together and we are alive.