I should be cleaning my house, which looks like a giant picked it up, shook it really hard, and set it back down again, but I knew you were curious how I fared yesterday. My blog readers come first, of course. That’s just the way I am.
Thanks for all your well-wishes on my first day of school in . . . well, a lot of years. Ten or so.
I found a new notebook around the house, so I didn’t have to buy one. I did, however, spring for a new backpack.
You’ve come a long way, JanSport! It even has an ice-pick loop, which is a nice added feature.
Seriously though, the reason I needed a new backpack (aside from the hunter green thing) is because I have some back issues. My chiropractor recommended a backpack with a waist belt, to offset some of the strain on my shoulders. (When I once got a backpack with a flimsy waist belt many, many years ago, I asked my cousin, “What is this for?” She said, “Oh, it’s just a thing nerds put around their waists when they wear their backpacks.” My battle between nerd-dom and back aches lasted about 17 seconds.) I found this beauty on sale (thank goodness! no way was I ready to pay 100 bucks for a backpack) and wore it out of the store. (Not really. Okay, yes really. I’m trying to cut down on my plastic bag consumption.)
Anyway, I ended up not getting any big sunglasses. I just didn’t have the time.
That, as you’ll soon see, was a mistake.
I went to my first class yesterday morning, 3-Dimensional Design, excited, nervous, and about five minutes late. I walked in, and it was an art room (hey, Einstein!) so there were no desks, just an open area with students sitting on metal stools. Everyone, of course, turned toward me when I opened the door (which leads directly outside . . . no indoor hallways) so I smiled and said, “Um, hi.”
“C’mon in, have a seat,” the teacher said.
Except there weren’t any. Seats, I mean. At least on the entrance side of the room. They were all stacked on the other side, through the haphazard circle of everyone else sitting on their metal stools. And, though I love my backpack and it’s weight distribution properties, it is kind of big.
Before I could worry too much about it, though, this young man with a shaved head and a big diamond stud in his ear (I think it was fake), stood up and crossed over to grab me a stool.
Oh! How very gentlemanly. (Or possibly he just has respect for his elders.)
It was nice of him and I settled in to enjoy the reading of the syllabus. Before much longer, we were pairing up for lockers and I just asked the first person I saw if they wanted to share. He happened to be quite young with long-ish very messy hair, and appeared to have no clue what was going on, possibly having slept through the entire ‘Intro to this class’ lecture. “What class is this?” he asked me. “Art 120?”
That will be interesting, I’m sure.
After locker sign-ups and a tour of the supply cupboard, we broke into groups to make three-dimensional art with whatever furniture we could find in the room. In the midst of this activity, where my group and I managed to make an easel look menacing and ready to attack some poor stools, the door opened, bringing with it a rush of cold March air.
A young man walked in, scanned the room briefly, then walked straight up to me.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I left some paintings here to be graded at the end of last quarter and was wondering where I would find them.”
In my mind, I was thinking, “Why is he asking me?” Out loud, I said, “I don’t know,” just as the dots connected in my brain.
He thought I was the teacher.
HE THOUGHT I WAS THE TEACHER.
I hadn’t been back to school an hour, and I was already being mistaken for the teacher. I laughed about it the entire day.
The thing is, I am old enough to teach college. I just don’t feel like I am.
But apparently I look it.
Will it look odd to wear sunglasses during class, do you think?