I Dwell In Possibility

I get strangely excited every time the course guide for the next semester is available online.  I wish I could say that this is what marks me as a nerd, but if I’m being honest, I get excited about far nerdier things than the course guide (marching bands, office supplies, the smell of books).  I like the feeling of possibility in the new course guide.  I get the feeling, a little flutter somewhere between my heart and stomach, when I first print out my schedule of new classes—that feeling before you are steeped in research and deadlines, that great openness, a new beginning.

It may seem absurd to wax poetic on the course guide, but for me the guide is indicative of that starting over point that we are lucky enough to get every first class meeting.  Syllabus week is famously boring, but there’s also something thrilling about the textbook list and schedule that stretches into the future, providing a definite plan.  This is something unique to college.  Once we’re out in the “real world,” we won’t have chances to start over, to learn things we never would have dreamed of, to fulfill that childhood hopefulness for the college experience once every fourteen weeks or so.

So when I logged onto Wolverine Access last week to find that the course guide was available, I was first greeted with my familiar feelings of optimism and the adventure of finding unexpected exciting classes (I warned you, I’m a nerd).  But as I began sorting through meeting times and how many classes I wanted to take and figuring out credits, I was struck with a sort of despair.  This will be my last semester at the University of Michigan.  Suddenly, my enthusiasm had disappeared.  Two things occurred to me: one, I will never be able to take all of the classes I would like to, and two, it’s really happening.  I’m really going to graduate.

I transferred to Michigan my sophomore year.  It took me one semester to not feel like a freshman and another semester to really get the hang of it and feel like I belonged here.  Now, three years later, I never want to leave.  I am so excited to go out and start my career and put what I’ve learned to use, but there’s a part of me that knows that I’ll miss seeing my best friends every day in the lobby of the Walgreen and being able to geek out about Tennessee Williams with professors and classmates.  Now, I finally feel like a major part of a major program.  I have friends telling me every day not to graduate, and sometimes, I really wish I didn’t have to.

I’ve always loved school.  I was the kid who woke up at 4 a.m. on the first day of second grade, trying to shake my parents awake because I was afraid I’d be late.  Soon, it will be my last first day.  And while I know it means I’m taking a step toward a (hopefully) awesome career doing what I’ve always known I wanted to do, it also means I’ve really got to make it count.  So if you see me glued to my computer screen the next couple of weeks, don’t mind me.  I’m just taking one final walk through the pages and pages of possibility that is the course guide.