Tuesday, January 26, 2010

day 14: first day of school.

(taken from my spiral notebook, handwritten to avoid numbly staring at the wall)

My first class is Spanish. Here super early to find my classroom, I found it in a corner of campus I didn't know existed. Don't remember how to get back to my car, as I had to walk in circles to get here. Not sure how to get to my next class from here either.

With 25 minutes before class, 3 people stood outside the open door. Two people were already seated inside. The sun is just barely rising, campus is quiet and serene. Birds waking, chirping. We're on the 2nd floor of the building already at the highest point on campus so there is a nice view.

Ten minutes before class. I took a seat second from the front on the far left side.To my left are old dirty windows, industrial style with metal frames and chipping paint that reach to the ceiling. Beyond the trees I can see some of the high rises in downtown. People are starting to trickle in. No one's really talking, so its only scuttles, shuffles and the occasional chair squeak and anticipated student sigh.

After this I have ten minutes to get across the busy street to the fitness center. Its not on campus like at SWC. Probably an upgrade or afterthought to this old campus (built in the 20's). I hope they give us locker rooms and decent showers. I don't want to the be the girl in psych class that smells like a horse.

Fortunately, I am not the oldest student, nor the only naturally non-Spanish speaker. Hope doesn't embarrass me in the some way. What happens to that teenage fearlessness I had? isn't that supposed to get stronger with age?

Funny how, in this day and age, we forget how to write. Thanks to my ultra fast typing skills, i gave the mighty pen ages ago. two pages and my wrist hurts. can i claim some sort of student's comp for this?

Teacher is outside yacking to someone. five minutes late. Frida is on the wall with some tissue paper roses. Now he's gone... wtf?

There are old skool roll-down maps hanging above the white boards, yellowed and ripped along the edges. Overhead and projector stand, tv cart, all covered in dust. Ten minutes late. My feet are cold. I have to pee. I'm out of coffee. The girl one seat in front of me and the right has a small thermos steaming with coffee. I can smell it. I hate her. Not really. But I'd like to pull her hair and take her coffee. The teacher has disappeared. Geez. must be nice. Bet he's getting coffee, too. No one is sitting in front of me, which means that the yokel that shows up a half hour late with be my study partner...

(after class)
...This teacher is way laid back. Wearing cotton khaki from head to toe, with some casual brown loafers, salt and pepper messy curly hair, a few months after its last cut, and big unfashionable glasses to match his big beer belly. His speech is slow, like his overall mannerism, and i learned that the old guy standing outside of class this morning is the professor. Glad i didn't say something dumb to him, like 'I hate Spanish'. And yes, two girls that came in 30+ minutes late sat in front of me and to my left (there is a row of chairs lining the windows facing the rest of the class, rather than facing forward in rows like the rest of us) and they talked the whole time.

I ran into a guy in the bookstore who is in my class and he is nice. perhaps I'll buddy with him.

One hour to exercise class. Blocks to walk. Glad its not raining.