Fresh starts

I live within blocks of the University of Washington, and my mood waxes and wanes with its academic tides.  Today was the first day of class, and I felt as eager as a new freshman as I walked across campus.

The Seattle weather continued bright and sunny, the temperature in the mid-60s.  Since the opening of the new light rail station in front of Husky Stadium, the campus has never been as depopulated between terms as it used to be.  Non-students now cross it routinely on their way from the train to wherever they are going.  But the difference between yesterday and today was obvious.

It was most obvious at Red Square, that giant brick-paved expanse in the center of campus -- perhaps the largest paved square (trapezoid, actually) this side of St. Mark's Square in Venice.  Ordinarily, even during the term, the square feels largely vacant, with students crossing it appearing ant-like in its vastness.

Today, the square was jam-backed with booths -- like an open market or bazaar in a third-world country -- representing every department on campus, and an extraordinary number of extracurricular activities.  And students were clustered everywhere, standing in lines to get information or play games or just talk to someone about some interest they had.  The ROTC had even constructed a climbing wall that was available for those willing to risk injury on the first day of class (harnesses were provided).

Unlike the Cambridge University scenes from Chariots of Fire, there were no hustlers for a school Glee Club singing arias from Gilbert & Sullivan -- but I wouldn't have been surprised if there had been.

Mob scenes aren't usually my scene, but sometimes I get caught up in it all.  And students come in so  many age groups nowadays that no one thought twice at seeing me tottering about, pretending I was a freshman.

The first day of class.  New books, new supplies, new hopes, ... new self-delusions.  Yes, you'd say, this is the quarter that I attend every class, take great notes, begin term papers the day they are assigned, and use finals week to simply put a few grace notes on the incredible understanding I've achieved of each class's subject matter.  That euphoria usually lasted about two weeks, but it was a pleasant period of feeling on top of the world.  Then, reality set in, but that's a subject for a different essay.

Good luck, students!  I envy you your fresh-faced beginnings of a new school year, but I'll be happy to avoid experiencing your approach to the precipice of final exams three months from now.  Enjoy student life while you can.