The First of the Last

Today is one of the last times that I will experience the first day of a semester. I am graduating soon, and I am glad I will never have to experience the first day of school again. The first day of school is a ritual that reminds me of high school. Everyone wears nice clothes and makes sure to make a good first impression.

Some classrooms full of people do not talk to each other at all and nervously look around and quickly find other things to do: texting, reading the newspaper, becoming fascinated by the buttons on their shirts, etc. Occaisionally, someone in the classroom will pipe up with small talk to the person next to them about their major or where they are from, and sometimes a few people will have had a class together before and their chatter will echo in the empty classroom until the professor arrives.

The arrival of the professor is very important. He or she will make sure to arrive exactly on time, and not a second early or late. That increases the anticipation of the students as they wonder whether the professor will ever show up and wonder how long they will be cooped up with strangers while they pretend to read the dull commentary of a crappy school newspaper trying to be fresh and edgy. The professor arrives, makes a few well-rehearsed jokes about the course that they have been reciting for so many decades that the jokes are sorely outdated, and hands out a syllabus that was made in the fifties and reused ever since. Thus commences the first day of school.