That Sunny Field

Ah, school. Well, if Anonju wants to hear about it...

I haven't blogged about my classes at Kilgore, not because I don't like them or they aren't noteworthy, but rather because I like them very much and they have a way of gobbling up my minutes, hours, and days. Before I know it the week has darted by and I've forgotten to wave.

But I love it. And here is something I wrote last week. It didn't show up on my blog because I had other plans for it which I also got too busy for.

It is now my first full-time semester at Kilgore College, and I’m getting along famously. The classes are generally engaging, the teachers generally helpful, and the homework generally manageable. Three days per week I pit my wits and will against the likes of algebraic functions. I maneuver the maze of Reconstruction in the 1860’s. I hear second hand and see first hand the social differences of the East Texas area. And more.

After several years of subjugation to high school algebra and the lingering sense of defeat, I decided this is the semester to revolt. So I am waging my personal revolution of sweat and blood on this dreaded subject, and maybe I’m winning.

However, my greatest downfall is distraction. Even on the foreign field of algebraic notation, my English-loving eye catches glimpses of the Roman alphabet and falls head over heels. Letters begin to form imaginary words, and my mind is floating up, up, and away, far beyond the battleground.

I love geography. I love foreign places, the names that roll off the tongue. I love imagining the exotic scenery. So when Ms. Verheyden, my algebra instructor, asks us to picture the Cartesian Plain, I am in my element.

What visions come to mind! I see no staid and stoic graph carefully squared. Instead, my living inward theater launches the scene of a grand desert, stretching to the azure horizon and painted in ocher and orange. Cactus and scrub are everywhere, and in the middle stands Ms. Verheyden, lassoing algebraic functions and reeling them home to their proper plots. And, of course, there is yet another gap in my memory of graphing functions.

This sense of imagination will go far in English class, I’m sure of it. However, one cannot graduate on English credits alone. The distractions do not stay behind when I move on to U.S. history. I’m truly interested in the details of Post Civil War Reconstruction. But when Mr. Seals mentions the reconstruction of Afghanistan today, I’m lost again. My page of thorough history notes is bordered by scribbled blue questions about Afghanistan, and my mind is roaming the Hindu Kush mountains.

Before government, I light for a moment on the bench outside the classroom to devour half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. This is standard operation for me at 11:00 am, as my new friend, Paige, knows. She is always there when I sit down, and last time she said she was going to bring a sandwich, too. “Good,” I tell her, “We can sit here and eat our sandwiches together.”

In government, we watch a documentary about Texas. The Lone Rangers are in it. Immediately, my mind drifts to The Lord of the Rings, and I picture Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, standing rugged and ragged on a lonely hill in Middle Earth. Eowyn or Arwen, Eowyn or Arwen? I ponder.

After class I visit the restroom just to check on my hair, which I swear is occupying more space in cubic feet than it was earlier this morning. I washed it and left home, and I know I could feel it growing during class as it dried. My hair is an unstoppable force. If only we could harness this energy, we wouldn’t have to freak out about saving the rainforests. I am sure I could get all my homework done, plus some.

No amount of energy, however, could reign in the wandering thoughts that liven up my day. Down in my heart, in a sunny field where my imagination runs wild, I am quite sure of this.