It’s the first day of school! I’m such a nerd. My classes don’t actually start for two more weeks, but I was able to sit at the welcome table and greet students. Hopefully I didn’t send anyone in the wrong direction as I pointed them towards their classes. No one came back yelling and irate, so I’m assuming I did my job well. I love the energy of the first day. For many, it’s the anticipation of a life change and the hope that tomorrow doesn’t have to be the same as yesterday. For others, it’s “Yes, four more years on my parent’s insurance!”
We were giving out handbooks, highlighters, and pens. Many of the students took them enthusiastically, while others looked skeptical. We had to reassure them that they were not signing up for a high interest credit card, and it really was a “no strings” type situation. Here were my words of advice to those students that seemed overly excited by the highlighters—don’t highlight everything in your textbook. If you do, it becomes ineffective. If you love to highlight, change your strategy. Highlight everything that is non-essential and leave the
important stuff untouched. It’s all about making your
idiosyncrasies work for and not against you.
I couldn’t help but be affected by one particular student. I noticed her right away, as she attempted to make her way through the crowd. Her arms were overloaded with overpriced books and a crammed bag hung dangerously low from her shoulder. These two things made her one of the pack, but it was the oxygen tank that set her apart. It is unwieldy in ideal circumstances; now imagine it among a chaotic collegiate mob.
She stopped in front of our table and asked if we could get her a wheel chair. Her skin was pale; her brow slick with sweat. It was clear she had trouble justgetting the words out. While I assumed she wanted to ride in the chair, itturned out she just needed it to get her belongings to her car. Rather thanwaiting on Campus security, I offered to carry her things for her.
We chatted as we made our way among the students and to the parking lot. I learned her name, and she told me about her classes, her desire to become a high school teacher, and her previous experiences in school. If I ignored the clear plastic tubes that filled her nose, it was a conversation that I’ve had a million times before. But then the conversation shifted. She had issues in her last English class because they didn’t know how to deal with her illness. She has cystic fibrosis. I don’t know a lot about this disease, but it killed two of my neighbors when they were in their early twenties. And I know the outlook isn’t good, yet, there she was—going to school, pursuing her goals, and getting it done. If it meant asking someone to carry her things to her car, she would do it. Nothing was going to stop her. Not even the fact that she’d just been released from the hospital that morning. Not last month or last week, but that morning. Hours before she’d been wearing the unflattering white gown and medical i.d. bracelet, but she made it to all of her classes. And barring any medical emergencies, she’d be back the next day and the
next.
There are students that miss class because they refuse the call of the alarm clock. Students that miss class because it’s such a sunny day, and besides, it’s just school. The excuses are many, and the result is the same. Many don’t recognize the opportunity before them, and so it’s easy to take it or leave it.
“I’ll go tomorrow.”
I know this story isn’t original or anything. We read and hear about it all the time—people cherishing life, overcoming hurdles, and doing what others take for granted. In our Facebook culture, it has almost become a cliché, as we repost in order to gets thousands of likes. But there was just something about the image of that oxygen tank that I can’t get out of my head. It belonged in a nursing home attached to lifetime smoker, not this sweet young girl with the overstuffed backpack, crumpled schedule, and lopsided ponytail.
It was haunting and inspiring all at once.
It has set the tone for my semester, and while she didn’t
ask to be a spokesperson for courage,
I am encouraged.