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Day’s Verse:

but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

Isaiah 40:31

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It’s hard—strange—to think that the next month or three weeks mark my last time at Clark. Coming to sit in the science building and seeing familiar faces that I traded for the humanities, then for a new set of faces altogether, I have to ask myself… yet some things, once committed do, cannot be rescinded or questioned. Like marriage, commitment to school should never be allowed to waver.

I will—I do—miss the science building. You could say it’s the first building I ever knew, though I never succeeded in the classes I attended there. The easy fitting in, the camaraderie, felt by these students reminds me regretfully that my schedule boasts no science classes and I do not belong here listening to their technical communications. I miss the thinking technically, but humanities come so easily to me. Their exams have pampered me, requiring no intense week of memorization to master difficult concepts. How difficult is Wordsworth’s idea of nature?!—nothing compared to the natural world itself, that most magnificently complex creation of a loving God. I regret the loss of being reminded daily of the complexity through the inadvertent emphasis of atheistic professors who speak of numbers and phenomena while I hear glory and hallelujah.

Nothing in writing rivals it, though I write and think that way nearly like breathing. I feel that this is my farewell to Clark’s science department, and to Clark: a weak, puny one from a girl who only spent a year and a half in the science building. I’d forgotten how echoes fly through the building, sounds of steps, doors, and voices bouncing far in the distant bowels of the building. I’d forgotten the ding of the Matrix-esque elevator. I’d forgotten the little old janitor man who reminds me of Geri the chess-player in the Pixar short. I’d forgotten to question myself, asking if I truly posses the intelligence to keep up with such scientifically clever people. But how empty their lives must be, that they fill up so completely with this building and its knowledge. Knowledge? Perhaps I mean information, for despite all the learning that occurs here, what have these students come to know?

From my place I can see the reflection of green grass and trees on a display case, sometimes with people strolling in pairs along white cement paths. Between two tree trunks dimly the globe encased in the reflecting glass shows through. A black globe with many-colored countries. A small-imaged girl, no taller than the black world, reflectedly walks unknowing through the world.

Now awaiting the decrepitly struggling substitute shuttle, gray sky looming close overhead, leaning against the concrete barrier-wall, I hear Clark-sweatshirted Manda shouting to a group of child-parent couples, explaining why Goddard is important to Clark. Every school wants somebody important, but can Clark, or any school, claim an individual? Her voice echoes loudly over the whirr of car tires and metallic thumps of stunt-bicycles, bouncing off Jonas Clark, the library, and Attwood. Her echoing reminds me of the little reflected girl walking through the world, nothing tangible or real, but passing through nonetheless.

News: We both woke up feeling lousy, so I took Tylenol as per mother suggested, crawled around doing preparatory stuff until I caught the shuttle and found I could barely croak out a good morning to Morning Bob, the shuttle driver. Apparently my voice decided that, despite the fact I still have three weeks of school remaining, it was ready for a vacation now. However, I valiantly did my part of the presentation, explaining first that my voice had deserted me in my moment of need. The class was very understanding, and as we took less than twenty minutes, they barely had time to enter REM sleep before the next part of the group began their speil. Overall, however, I believe the professor liked our presentation which means any bad quiz scores have been negated (much to one of my group member’s overwhelmingly demonstrative glee). Now I anticipate enjoying the afternoon in a soaky bath, pampering my throat, and not doing anything because tomorrow is Spree Day and classes are cancelled for this all-important schoolwide party. That I most willingly plan to avoid.

– KF –