School or {Why Christmas Has to Wait}

The smaller campus dares you to hide, to attempt to get lost in the crowd.  There is activity pulsing all around and if you stand still you can hear the beckoning and feel a yearning to be involved, to become part of this community.   You can hear the wheels of learning churn and grind as students embark on quests to move beyond that which was previously placed before them as truth.  This is a place called King’s.

A place where you can move beyond self imposed limitations.  You begin to embrace your own ideals and through recognizing the power of critical thinking these ideals are hesitantly, tentatively given a voice.

A place where tantalizing smells waft up from the basement floor cafeteria and you can almost taste the deep fried goodness of wings and fries.  Its aroma dares you to defy the “eat your vegetables” rule of your childhood.  In this room bread is broken and friendships are forged, in the midst of attempts to balance your nutrition as well as your time – assignments are pressing yet the relaxed atmosphere calls and you answer.

A place where exams and essays loom large, larger than life and you can read the panic, the late nights, the anxiety right there on all of the faces.  Hair looking wildly for combs, eyes brimming – just waiting for tears to fall.  Pajamas and slippers become the fashion statement and caffeine, chocolate and sugar are consumed in multiple combinations.  You wonder how on earth you’ll find the time, package the time, rent the time to get it all done and there it is in the back of your head, the mantra- like warning from your writing professor  “welcome to big school” he said.  And just for a moment you wish you could go back, avoid the party and the pitfalls of  a social life because maybe then you wouldn’t be feeling the chains of not enough time, maybe then you wouldn’t feel as if you are about to cry.

A place where each moment, each encounter, each decision, good or bad, shapes you, becomes a path that, if not taken, would hold regret.  There is a longing to capture each memory and claim it as a rite of passage so you take a firm grip, hold on tight and enter the fray.

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