Meanwhile, a year ago...
The first day of school was always a mix of the familiar and the unusual. There were new classes, teachers, and expectations. I was no longer a freshman, and it felt good to have the training wheels off and not be one of the little kids of Lake Point High School any longer.
The initial bell rang, heralding the impending start of first period. Moments later, I walked along with some 25 other people into Mrs. Teresa Gorman’s sophomore literature class. As I entered, the teacher was shuffling papers around at her desk. She didn’t really notice us walking in as I took a seat off to the far side, where I set down my bag and watched as other students streamed in. I recognized a few, and was kind of relieved to see my best friend, Karyn Black. The bell’s four notes rang in the start of sophomore year.
“Good morning, class,” Mrs. Gorman began as she stood in front of the whiteboard and held several pieces of paper in front. “Welcome to sophomore English, and we’re going to begin by taking roll.” She looked down at the paper and began reading. “Laura Acevedo? Bryce Ackland?” I looked around, not recognizing a number of the names or only having heard them on occasion. Not only was Karyn Black—my best friend—in this class, but so too were a few other people I remembered. Nicole Forsyth was one of the better female athletes in my year, Jason Knight did cross country and track, and Jennifer Taylor had been one of the few freshmen in last year’s school play. It took Mrs. Gorman several minutes to get through the class roster.
“So, first order of business today, we will be going through our syllabus for this semester,” she explained. She began handing out stacks of stapled packets to be passed back through the rows and activated a presentation on the front whiteboard. “This is Sophomore English Literature, and this class is focused on presenting a variety of world literature, as well as writing projects and vocabulary.” That prompted her to segue into a slide listing the books and textbooks that we would use throughout the year. English always had a lot of books, between novels and short stories and vocabulary.
“Vocabulary will be one of the things that sets our rhythm for the week,” she continued. The presentation now showed the schedule: new units assigned on Monday, due Thursday and a test on— Huh, I thought. I rubbed my eyes as my vision blurred momentarily. Guess I’m just tired and not used to waking up so early again.
Mrs. Gorman’s explanation was pretty dry, so I opted instead to glance at the syllabus so as to get a sense of the key points and looked around the room. “In the second quarter, we will be doing our poetry unit…” This news was met with disinterest. A couple of others were rubbing their eyes, perhaps trying to fend off the urge to fall asleep in the darkened room. One was scratching at her throat for some reason. This class was so obviously bored.
I was also finding myself rubbing my eyes more as the presentation set out the selected novels, writing projects, and class expectations. Yes, it was the first day of school, but my eyes seemed unusually... itchy.
Something in the air? I wondered.
