The Daily Minutiae

"And now we're coming into East Green."

"I'm sorry, which one?"

"East."

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These are two of the several lines I've heard lately spewing from the mouths of tour guides as they take their groups through the safari of college life.

High schoolers shuffle around behind their guide with their parents; their eyes strafe the faces they pass.  Few of them have anything to say.  Every once in a while I'll spot one like me, with his or her college-app-filling, greedy little high school eyes daydreaming how they're going to conquer OU.  I guess you could say it's a change of times, but I don't see many like those.

A close friend of mine and I were reminiscing about junior year.  That was my favorite in high school and hers too.  As ages go though, I've heard a line about growing up that says "17 is a test."  This underrates 18 by far, I think.  Senior year, prom, graduation, being a "leader," responsibility.  That was all before the summer; then came work, college planning, shopping.  Then comes "Kristallnacht," that night every soon-t0-be Bobcat has when they good-bye to their best friends as they wait another two weeks for school to start.

Do we need to get into adjusting to the college?

Wait --change of times?

It was a year ago that I was learning about lofting.  A year ago I never thought I'd have my greens down, much less know what a green actually was.

I feel like polling visiting students to see if they're in the same kind of awe that I was in just a year ago.  (Just a year?  Did I really look that lost a year ago?)  What did they want out of college?  Where else are they looking?  How the hell is high school?

Having gotten this off my chest has put me in that same feeling that I get when I linger around to watch the tour groups leave.  I sigh, shrug my shoulders, think about my truncated high school years, and write it off as just feeling old.