my last first day of class was four and a half years ago when i began my senior spring semester at KU (right after a huge snow storm and while i was recovering from pneumonia, i might add).
my first day of fencing class was eight years ago, when i was a senior in high school. i was young and little and awkward and shy and easily shocked. i was not a great fencer (that semester or the next — i wasn’t terrible, but i wasn’t great), but i had a good time.
i am not quite so young this day (almost twenty-five versus almost seventeen), and the physical part of me takes up less space now. i was still a little nervous on the drive to campus, but i actually talked to two of my new classmates without having met them ever before in my life. and i asked questions. i actually did. sixteen-year-old me probably would not have done that.
once you’re a journalist you kind of get over being shocked, too, which in some ways is nice.
i’m not trying to toot my own horn here or anything because that’s not cool. sometimes, though, i look at the inside of my mind and heart and wondered if i’ve grown or matured at all over the past several years.
it’s encouraging to see the differences between eight years ago and today, fencing-related or not.
i think the mind and the heart and the soul and the determination have all done a lot of growing. i hope there’s even more growth in the next eight years.
oh gosh, then i’ll be thirty-two. well, let’s not think too far ahead.
and by the way: if you haven’t read the screwtape letters by c.s. lewis, you should. it’s fantastic. (and you can find a used paperback at amazon for $1.10.) it’s eye-opening and encouraging and entertaining all at once.
