The first part of the day
“Every day is a new beginning”-unknown
It was a crisp morning, colorful autumn hues made Mother Nature proud. Frosted ground began to thaw as the sun broke through the charcoal colored clouds. This Friday morning could be any Friday morning and the repetition of events between 7:45-8:15 am week after week is almost comical. Boxes of frosted donuts make their grand entrance through the chipped, weathered door of the gym. This weekly sale attracts students who eagerly wait with their coins clanking in their pockets. The assortment of donuts is spread across the foldable plastic table. The cash box is kept tucked away from arms reach. There is the usual Boston cream, chocolate glazed, and jelly. But the type everyone had their eyes on is the seasonal pumpkin donuts whose numbers are dwindling as the lower schoolers have been first in line. Patiently waiting students handed the clerk their payments and the transactions are complete with a smile and a bite. For the next thirty minutes a series of chrome and silver cars pulled in to the half circle in front of Ward Hall. They are predominantly SUV’s ranging from Chevy Silverado’s to Jeep Grand Cherokees. Each releasing carbon dioxide into the air as parents eagerly drop off their boys. Traffic grinds by until the last student has been dropped off.
Today’s weather is different weather than usual for New England in October. Arctic wind wrestles with the heat from the south as two competing climates collide. Students flow into the gym lobby lugging their heavy packs of binders, books, and homework and almost on queue drop them exactly where they stop walking. Inside heavy down-coats are taken off. Students stroll into the gym and reach for the deflated Wilson basketballs in the bin - picking them up and launching them into the frayed nylon nets of the hoop. Groups of friends congregate and start a pick-up game of which always turn competitive. On the opposite side of the wooden gym floor the soccer players start their own games. The shoes of the players move the well-worn ball across the hardwood floor in hopes of putting it into the opponent’s net. On the other side of campus is the library. Natural light seeps through the large glass panes and provides the readers perfect visibility. Some admittedly rush to complete their homework in a last minute push before the day’s start. Book bags are spread across the oak tables. There is steady stream of students walking between the library and gym until the clock strikes 8:15 am and all students file away into their advisory to start the long day. There is a chaos to these mornings that repeats itself each week. At times it grows a little old, but for now I will cherish them as their numbers are decreasing each and every day of 9th grade.