With one week of class remaining at Wellesley, I have begun to notice the details of the woodwork and appreciate the way the light falls. The general noise of the everyday is significantly less stress-inducing. This end is not only the end of the year, it's the end of my undergraduate career. My ID will not allow me back into the buildings. I will become guest or trespasser in the classrooms and dorms and dining halls. The prospective students (prospies) arrive on campus every day of April and May with the energy, curiosity, and hope that comes with the transition to college from home and high school. I witness them as a drag myself to class and on some days I just grumble. But with one week of class remaining, I look back nostalgically to when I was beginning at Wellesley. And then I look around and realize that things are only better now than they were when I first started. I live in a better dorm, I have stronger friendships, I have learned more than I ever had hoped, and I have a acquired a multitude of stories.
Just minutes ago, a giant group of female Japanese students filled into and filled the Great Hall, where I am working. They were being led by a soft-spoken white man with white hair that stops just above his shoulders and a beret.
The students had out their cameras and were pointing and talking and laughing and taking pictures of each other.
Although he gently waved everyone out of the Great Hall and on to their next destination, one girl remained. She had her camera out and was taking a few final pictures.
The man was in front of her, waiting patiently, as she continued to point her camera at the architecture that surrounded him.
He turned to face her and I thought to wave her onward, but instead, with his fingers he formed a peace sign.
She snapped that one final picture, and away they went.
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