esther's journal-6

MONDAY, September 18: The start of a new school year is the best time. It’s the feeling of promise, I think. It’s the start of the journey, which really is what it is – a journey. We start out here and end up there. With any luck, we all arrive at the end together, somehow. I had all four of my classes, today, and I did what I usually do, at the start: try to figure out who won’t make it to the end. We never all get there.

One of the new sophomores in my B Block, Samuel Roberts, is an early guess. His entrance profile isn’t very strong and he seems a bit of an odd duckling. Not a great combination, though kids like that sometimes surprise you, too. They blossom. Margie – hard “g” – Wozniak in C Block is interesting. She's got that sneaky look about her. A bit too nice, a bit too mature. I already had to talk to her about her cleavage. She’s going to be trouble. I’m not saying she’s a lock to leave, but I’ve picked out girls before like her.

I’m a bit worried, too, about the new biology teacher. He’s really odd. Self-conscious. Needy. Clingy. If he gets through the year, he won’t make it through two. Then, it hit me. Maybe I’ll be the one, this year, who doesn’t make it to the finish line. I held the thought for a moment, then let it go. I felt it leave me, release from me. That was a healthy feeling. It made me smile. I’m going to end on that note. It’s a positive one, I think.