First Day of School

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My name is Risabella Rambler. I’m 22 years old, and I feel like a kindergartener.

Today was the first day of classes. I’ve had so many first days of school that ever since my first day of my sophomore year of high school, they’ve been pretty ho-hum. I mean, I’d always wear a special outfit (always wear a special outfit for the first day of school), but I just got so used to the process of first days that I’ll admit to being bored with them.

Not today.

Today is the first day of studying only the things I want to study.

Not everything that I want to study. I’m not getting an MA in creative writing. UU doesn’t offer one, and I don’t think God wants me anywhere else right now. So I’m not taking any poetry writing courses or novel writing courses or anything like that.

But I am learning how to research like a boss. And I’ll be learning why English works the way it does, which has been a mystery to me my whole life. And I’ll be reading works by authors I’ve never read and in some cases never even heard of.

I’m absurdly excited. I feel like a kindergartener on her first day of school ever, with a backpack and pencils and new boxes of crayons, embarking on a whole new world of learning new and remarkable things. I could hardly keep still in my seat. The intimidating projects on the syllabi barely made me flinch, I was so excited by the prospect of learning all these things.

Thank goodness four years of college didn’t leave me thinking I had nothing left to learn.

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