by Joe Miller
Play rehearsal ran a little long last Tuesday, so I didn’t leave the Opera House until nearly 8:30. I was a little caught off guard when I stepped outside and it was – not really dark yet, but definitely dusk.
There was still plenty of daylight left in post-rehearsal evenings just a few weeks ago.
The next morning, I heard a flock of geese noisily making their annual pilgrimage to warmer waters. Later I noticed a few lonely leaves fluttering their way to the ground on my walk.
Spring is the traditional time of fresh beginnings. But for me, fall has always felt like the start of a new year. No doubt that has something to do with the fact that I spent the ages of 5 through 34 inside classrooms.
Fall is the season of new school clothes, of erasers that are still squared off at the corners, of notebooks filled with blank, white sheets, their covers as-yet unmarred by overfilled backpacks or messy lockers. It’s the riiiiiip of fresh velcro on the Trapper Keeper that I promise myself I’ll keep better organized this year.
Later, it’s a trip to the campus bookstore, guessing at the volume of homework from the number of required books for each course, wincing a little (sometimes a lot) at how quickly all those summer paychecks disappear when you plonk an organic chemistry textbook on the counter.
Still later, it’s polishing lecture notes and wondering what made past you think that proposing an entirely new course with books you haven’t read since graduate school was a good idea.
This fall would have marked the 20th year since I’ve been inside a classroom.
Oh, I’m not returning to teaching. But I did fly down to Tallahassee recently to help my son, Matt, get moved into his new apartment.
He is one of eight new graduate students in the philosophy department at Florida State.
I hung out in the philosophy department lounge while Matt met with the director of the graduate program. I had time to browse some of the journals they keep on hand. I stumbled across an article by someone with whom I went to graduate school. It felt like the closing of a loop.
It was exciting to be back on a college campus, seeing Matt have some of the same experiences I had when starting graduate school.
His first course as a teaching assistant is an introductory to ethics course called “Ethical Issues and Life Choices.” The readings aren’t terribly different from the ones in the first class for which I was a teaching assistant. (Ours was called “Morality and Justice.”)
Fall doesn’t bring quite such dramatic changes once you leave the ivy-covered walls of school.
Jobs don’t change just because the calendar flips over to September. We’re still living in the same places. We don’t get a new roommate or a new set of co-workers.
And yet. The pace of life still picks up a bit after the long, lazy days of summer. There are kids to shuttle to practices and activities. Sweaters to unpack as the days get a little cooler. Leaves to rake. Coffee tastes a little bit better when there’s a nip in the air and the sun hasn’t quite made it over the horizon.
We’ll gather around backyard firepits and cheer from the stands at Pocahontas County High School.
By the time you read this, the Drama Workshop will be a week away from dress rehearsal for “Catch Me if You Can.” A few weeks later, the Opera House will host its first musical performance of the new season.
Later, it will get busier. Homework will pile up. We’ll be tired of driving to practices in the dark. The nip in the air will turn unpleasantly cold. Holidays will arrive, bringing with them joy but also expenses and stress.
That’s all ahead, though. Right now, there’s just the right amount of bustle, just the right amount of newness.
It’s a good time of year.
Happy September, everyone.
