The End of Classes

So this week saw the end of my undergraduate classes. I had my last day of regular classes on Tuesday, something that was both liberating and unsettling. First, at 11:30, I had my last archaeology class (Ancient Cultures of the Bible), and my last class with my mentor, The Professor. To be honest, it didn't really sink in that is was my final class with him; I was too busy taking notes, as it was a serious lecture class. At 1:00 I had my final Anthropology Fieldwork class, and again I didn't get that sense of finality; we were too busy wrapping up the course and getting through final student presentations.

But at 2:30 on that Tuesday I had my final class of the day (and of my undergraduate career). It was very appropriate that it was Liberation Theology, my senior values seminar. The class is all seniors, and we sat in our typical circular formation. As I sat down and looked at my fellow seniors, I was shocked and embarrassed to have a lump form in my throat. The reality of it all was sinking in; our time in college and at Fordham was drawing to a close.

In that class we sat and talked about the course and our upcoming final, but there was no lecture or note-taking. Some of the seniors spoke of their plans post-graduation, but the majority of us sat there, staring blankly. A few girls were tearing up, and I am glad to say that I did not join their ranks. I tried my best to keep my emotions concealed in the classroom context.

After that class was over I went outside and stood by the quad. It was a beautiful day; the sky was a bright glaring blue and devoid of clouds. I had oversized sunglasses on (very trendy), and I stood there, absorbing the beauty of the campus and allowing my new reality to settle in. Before I knew it silent tears were rolling down my face (thankfully concealed by the sunglasses). While I saw it as an accomplishment that I had finished my classes, keep in mind that I am an avid lover of academia; in general I enjoy my work. The fact that all of my classes at Fordham were now over was a bitter pill to swallow.

There was only one person on campus I could talk to about this: The Professor. The Professor and I have developed a strong bond over the past four years. I consider him to be my mentor both in archaeology as well as in other areas of life, and I respect him highly. I met him up in his messy, chaotic office and sat in the chair that I have sat in for countless hours.

"You're growing up!" he said to me as I plopped down in my chair and removed my sunglasses, revealing my tear-stained face. "The new adventure in your life is about to begin!"

"Yeah, I guess," I said, rather unenthusiastically.

"There will always be moments of transition like this in your life," he said. "That's what it's all about. I mean, you wouldn't want to stay here for another year, would you?"

"I guess not," I answered.

"And it's not like it's the end of school for you," he added. "It's just the end of school at Fordham."

I nodded- after all, I did plan on grad school in a year. The Professor was so wise.

"You'll be fine, Annie," he said to me, clapping me on the back. "I have absolute faith in you."

I didn't have alot of time to think about the close of my classes; now I am thoroughly entrenched in preparation for my finals. Those will be wrapped up by the close of this week, so another milestone will have gone by. It is quite unbelievable to think that I have two weeks left in my college career...