STEVEN JERAL HARRIS
EMERALD BLUE OKIKI
First Day At Glenworth.
It’s official. Today marks my first day as a Glenworth student, and I can’t be any more excited. I feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach as my mom stops in front of the main entrance of the school. This is it!
"Good luck. I’ll meet you here at 4:30," she says with a weak voice. “Now get out, before I get all emotional on you.”
“See you later mom. I love you,” I say as I exit the van.
She then rolls down the passenger window.
"Iva, keep your cell on you at all times," she tells me in a sobbing voice.
“I will, mom,” I turn to walk away but she calls out to me again.
“Iva, wait,” she says with a sobbing voice.
“What mom?” I rotate to her sadden face.
“Don’t go wandering off by yourself.”
I gradually begin backing away from the van to avoid her dramatic behavior. I just hope she doesn’t cause a big scene in front of all these people.
I won’t,” I reply.
“Hold on, wait,” she leaps from the van and approaches me, still sobbing.
“Mom, what—” before I’m able to finish the sentence she wraps her arms tightly around me.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers into my ear.
“You could’ve done this in the van, mom,” I whisper back, feeling a hint of shyness.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she lets me go and straightens my shirt, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“Seriously, mom, I’ll be okay.”
“I know honey. But there’s one more thing; stay away from boys,” she says while wiping away her tears. “They’ll get you pregnant.”
I roll my eyes, and almost face palmed myself in public. Seriously, she did not just say that, out loud.
"I know mom, I know. I’m slowly backing away now. Have a nice day at work," I say while chuckling.
Although it’s difficult for her to do, she finally musters the courage to back away and get into the van again. I watch her drive off, holding back her emotions, and emerge into traffic. I breathe out slowly to release some butterflies, then I pull out my class schedule from my pocket. If I’m reading this correctly, my first class is Pre-calculus at 10:15 with Professor Welsh, room 113. I check the time on my cell.
It’s only 9:58. I stroll up the walkway to join the busy college commute. It takes me about ten minutes to find the classroom. An old man with thinning hair greets me at the door as I enter. This classroom is large with a row of steps leading up.
I find a seat in a vacant aisle somewhere in the middle of class. Soon the other vacant seats become occupied, and then Professor Welsh closes the door behind himself.
"Good morning students. As you all may know, I am Professor Welsh and this is Pre-calculus. Today I will be teaching you the basics of Algebra formulas."
I spend an entire hour taking notes, notes, and more notes. After struggling to learning about the basic algebra formulas, I walk into the hall to review my schedule again. My next class is Psychology A. with Professor Forester, at room 145. I have to be there by 11:30, so I check my cell. It’s 11:20 right now. That means I’d better hurry if I want to make it to class on time. I begin my search for room 145, which to my surprise I find very easily.
A confident looking man is standing at attention in the center of the room with his chin raised high. He nods at me and I do the same.
Unlike the other classroom, this one is flat and much smaller. Not long the remaining students pour into class, one by one. The last student to enter is someone I met before, well not quite. He helped my mom with my wheelchair that day we took a tour around the school. He walks into class with his big hair and big frame, dressed in a simple outfit which consists of a gray long sleeve shirt, denim jeans, and suede boots.
Professor Forester waits for him to find a seat before he closes the classroom door and prepares to start his lecture.
“Humble greetings, students,” he says in an English accent. “As you may well know, I am Professor Forester. I would prefer it if you call me Dr. Forester. I didn’t spend all those years in school to be called otherwise,” he continues boldly. “Let me tell you a little about myself, I was born in England and when I was 10 years of age I moved to America with my father.
I graduated from high school by the age of 14. Top of my class, I might add. I received my bachelors in Math by 18 and then moved on to study Psychology and obtaining my masters by the age of 24, and finally my Doctorate degree at 28. You might be asking, why did I take math? Well, I believe Math is more psychological than any other subjects. For instance,” he says while walking over to his desk and picking up a colourful square. “This is a Rubik’s cube, you may have heard of
it. Have anyone solved one before?”
I look around the classroom and don’t see one hand going up in the air.
“I didn’t think so. An interesting fact about them is you need a psychological and mathematic approach in order to solve one; took me a couple of years to master the three sided one. My personal record is about 51 seconds but this one is four sided. My personal record for this one is about 1 minute and 35 seconds. That takes years of practice to solve this without the use of paper. Of course I wouldn’t expect any of you to figure it out on the first day, but with my help, and a little bit of practice we can…”
“How many years?” a voice behind me abruptly cuts off Dr. Forester.
“I’m sorry, how many years for what?” Dr. Forester asks back.
I look over my shoulder and notice the brawny boy speaking.
“How many years did it take you to solve that cube?” he asks with his stern expression.
Dr. Forester chuckles with his pride bursting.
“It took about a year to get the hang of it. Then 3 to get to my current record.”
“Can I try Professor?” he asks.
...to be continued
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