The First Day
Waiting eagerly for Civil Procedure to begin, I joined a congregation of students milling aimlessly up and down the halls looking eagerly for familiar faces. Students crowded around the free coffey bar and snatched up available chairs at circular tables. The shy students pretended to be interested in flyers posted on bulletin boards so as not to seem like complete social outliers. All the faces I passed looked fresh and lively- a perception which could also have reflected animalistic "fight or flight" instincts.
The slamming of lockers ringed in the halls, jogging back memories of my highschool days. I could hear the heels of young ladies dressed in their best clanging against the tile floors-- mine included. The stinging smell of coffey-- which I had just recently found a love for-- drifted up from my new Seattle Univeristy coffey mug. I let the officiality of full time law student status soak in.
I decided it was time to take the plunge and enter my first classroom. As I walked in, my highschool friend's parasitic gaze latched on to me and she began to wave furiously at the seat next to her which she had reserved with her text book. How about that. My very first class of my first day, and there is a place waiting just for me. We exchanged greetings and quick reports of our day thus far then joined the rest of the room in a silence full of expectation.
The powering on of laptops and the clicking of keys were all that could be heard, but even these stopped five minutes till when a middle height, middle aged man in a dark blue suit walked to the center of the front of the room. His hair was short, but thick pompous curls escaped from the side of his head above his ears.
He warmly welcomed us and congratulated us on on our choice to attend law school. He introduced himslef as Prof. Avila, briefly went over his expectations, and set the stage for the rest of our class discussion. Nothing too unusual, nothing unlike undergraduate school, nothing cruel and unusual. In fact, Prof. Avila had a sense of humor- although it seemed, he didn't have the capability of laughing or even smiling.
As he told us that our behavior in his class should reflect how we wanted to be viewed by our future employers, he taped large peices of paper to his business suit. One read, "I surf the internet in class, I don't have discipline, don't hire me" another read, "I am not prepared for class, I am not responsible, don't hire me". The class tried to laugh AND look serious at the same time. Prof. Avila's face remained stern and untouched as he continued his introduction to our material- still wearing the signs.
After class I saw Prof. Avila making his way through the muck of sudent hallway congestion. I noticed that he was still wearing the signs- clearly trying to make his statement to his class, or prove that he is funny. Our eyes meet and I laugh warmly at him (I have been told that my laugh alone is enough to make a new friend). But Prof. Avila just stares grimly back, punishing me with his eyes. My return smile, making no progress of friendship, is suddenly frozen by his glare and finally relinquishes into shame.
The slamming of lockers ringed in the halls, jogging back memories of my highschool days. I could hear the heels of young ladies dressed in their best clanging against the tile floors-- mine included. The stinging smell of coffey-- which I had just recently found a love for-- drifted up from my new Seattle Univeristy coffey mug. I let the officiality of full time law student status soak in.
I decided it was time to take the plunge and enter my first classroom. As I walked in, my highschool friend's parasitic gaze latched on to me and she began to wave furiously at the seat next to her which she had reserved with her text book. How about that. My very first class of my first day, and there is a place waiting just for me. We exchanged greetings and quick reports of our day thus far then joined the rest of the room in a silence full of expectation.
The powering on of laptops and the clicking of keys were all that could be heard, but even these stopped five minutes till when a middle height, middle aged man in a dark blue suit walked to the center of the front of the room. His hair was short, but thick pompous curls escaped from the side of his head above his ears.
He warmly welcomed us and congratulated us on on our choice to attend law school. He introduced himslef as Prof. Avila, briefly went over his expectations, and set the stage for the rest of our class discussion. Nothing too unusual, nothing unlike undergraduate school, nothing cruel and unusual. In fact, Prof. Avila had a sense of humor- although it seemed, he didn't have the capability of laughing or even smiling.
As he told us that our behavior in his class should reflect how we wanted to be viewed by our future employers, he taped large peices of paper to his business suit. One read, "I surf the internet in class, I don't have discipline, don't hire me" another read, "I am not prepared for class, I am not responsible, don't hire me". The class tried to laugh AND look serious at the same time. Prof. Avila's face remained stern and untouched as he continued his introduction to our material- still wearing the signs.
After class I saw Prof. Avila making his way through the muck of sudent hallway congestion. I noticed that he was still wearing the signs- clearly trying to make his statement to his class, or prove that he is funny. Our eyes meet and I laugh warmly at him (I have been told that my laugh alone is enough to make a new friend). But Prof. Avila just stares grimly back, punishing me with his eyes. My return smile, making no progress of friendship, is suddenly frozen by his glare and finally relinquishes into shame.
posted by Christy | 8:12 PM
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