As a child, going back to school meant getting a new 3-ring binder, a Lisa Frank Trapper-Keeper, and a fancy new pair of Zips. I thought nervously about the first day of school: would I be in home room with my friends, would my teachers like me?
As an adult, going back to the classroom brings a different set of worries with it. However, there is a kind of excitement that I never felt as a child. I still wonder if the teacher will like me, things still written on the board, students at their desks with an instructor leading them on a path of knowledge. This time around we are adults, leaving our adult concerns behind to learn skills we hope will change the course of our separate futures. We come from a multitude of backgrounds, jobs, and lives to come together for three hours every Tuesday night.
Instead of of reluctantly participating, we jump in with almost a child-like enthusiasm that might have been absent when we were children. Class is no longer a perfunctory task, but a mindful meditation on our futures.
