My fall semester started yesterday, when I taught three first-year writing classes at Curry College; today, I’m teaching two classes at Framingham State. There’s something exhilarating about teaching the first few days of fall semester, when your freshmen are still truly “fresh.”
The first few days of fall semester, there’s an air of excitement on campus as students meet new people and make new friends. I didn’t see this side of my Curry students last term, as I was hired in the middle of the second semester, in February, when my students were already tired, jaded, and yearning for spring. Soon enough my students at both schools will be settled into a regular routine, the same old habits emerging, albeit in a new environment. But right now, New England is gearing up for her prettiest season, and right now, first-year college students are full of resolve, determined to leave behind the baggage and bad habits of their high school years, when even the smallest mistakes or indiscretions quickly establish one’s reputation.
At the start of fall semester, one’s self seems supple, September offering an excuse for midyear rather than New Year’s resolutions. This year, students tell themselves, I’ll buckle down and keep up with homework. This year, instructors tell themselves, I won’t procrastinate grading. Hope (in other words) springs eternal, and not just in spring. September is as eager a time as any other, the start of a new school opening the door to ample opportunities.