Today was the last first day of school of my foreseeable educational career. Talk about a crazy thought. But let's just say that it would be an understatement to say that I'm excited to be a senior. As much fun as school has been, I am more than ready to say adieu.
As I was moving my tush from class to class today, I realized how different an experience it was from my freshman or even sophmore years. I remember always getting nervous the day before the first day of school--anxious about knowing my schedule, where my classes were, who would be in my classes, and so on. Waking up in the morning would be no issue, being subconsciously terrified of sleeping through my alarm and such. I would rush out the door, so as not to be late, and read my planner a thousand more times so that I was sure to go to the right class in the right building. Upon entering a classroom, there would be a quick scan to find an open seat near nice looking people, and then a quick shuffling to get settled. Notebook? Check. Pen? Check. Planner? Check. Textbook? Check. Nervously I would glance around to ever so subtly check out my classmates before the professor would arrive. And then class would happen and the cycle would repeat for the whole first week of school.
And this is the part where I admit how much I like being a senior.
I like knowing where buildings are. I like seeing familiar faces. I like knowing that being a few minutes late to class isn't the end of the world. I like knowing the bus schedule. I like that I can walk around and feel like I own the place. I like the fact that even if I don't know anyone in the class, it's okay to talk to people and make new friends. I like not thinking that I have to somehow impress the prof and other students during the first class in order to succeed.
I like that the end is in sight.
I am bringing my four year college career to a close, and I like that I have become established. Tonight as I was walking home, I decided to stop for dinner at Mim's the Middle-Eastern cafe across the street from campus. I have been frequenting that establishment since I was a wee little freshman. That's almost four years. I order the same thing, with the same drink. Sometimes I go with friends, other times on my own when I'm simply famished. Majed is one of the cooks, and knows me. He knows that I'm a student, and what I do for work, and never fails to ask about how all of those things are going. He even asks about my friends, and how their lives are going. It's a comfortable place for me.
Tonight when I crossed that threshold, I was tired and hungry and ready to be done with the semester right then and there. I slid into a chair at the counter and greeted Majed. I ordered and lamented about my day. He responded with his cheerful smile and encouraging words. I buried my face in my book, getting lost in the words of PG Wodehouse and the sizzling sound of vegetables on the grill in the background. It was familiar. The next thing I know there's a small plate of hummus and pita in front of me. Backing away shyly was Majed, mumbling something about knowing how tired and hungry I was. When my food was ready, I dug in like I hadn't seen food in a week. And then there was a hot cup of tea in front of me, not requested, but welcomed. Something as small as that cup of tea, made all the difference in my day.
Yes, I think I like being a senior.
