University 101

It was time for the first class on the first day of college, a day that would change my life forever. Everything was fresh and new. I left my dorm room, skipped down the stairs to the first floor, and exited Mabee hall. I winced at the brightness of the sun; there wasn’t a cloud in the west Texas sky. The wind almost knocked me to the ground.

Some six hundred feet away, directly before me, stood the old admin building. The location of my first class. I passed the library on my way there, where I would later spend more hours than I could count.

Engraved above the doors of the admin building where the following words:

YE SHALL KNOW THE TRUTH
,
AND THE TRUTH

SHALL MAKE YOU FREE

That may well be, I thought, but I’d like to make it through today first.

We all trudged through the doors like a herd of bovine shoulder to shoulder on our way to pasture. I traversed the groove-worn stairs to the second floor; it was clear, I was not the first to walk here. I made my way down to the end of the hall, found my classroom, and promptly took a seat in the very back.

“Welcome to University 101,” the professor said.

He turned out to be one of the professors from the psychology department. He was in charge of giving graduating Bible majors a psych test to make sure they weren’t sending cuckoos out to the churches. As a Bible major, I was subject to said test. Spoiler, I passed.

The professor told us about some of the things we would be studying for the semester, many of which we never got to, and then gave us our first assignment. We were to go around the room one by one and introduce ourselves, followed by an animal we identify with and why—yay, college.

I hated speaking in public. I have grown better at it over the years, but I am an introvert and would rather hide in the corner and soak things in at my own pace. I often, frustratingly, think of something to say in a public forum after the event is over. I guess it just takes time to get my brain to move.

The professor pointed to the first person on the first row to go first. I nervously started counting how many people there were in line before me before I had to speak. There were many, but not enough.

“Hello. I’m Daniel. I’d be a dog cause they’re good friends,” said the first student.

“Howdy, I’m Elizabeth. I would be an owl because they are wise,” said another student.

Oh. This is embarrassing. I’ve got to think of something good. What if someone in front of me uses the same animal? This is insane. I shouldn’t be this nervous. But I am.

“My name is Jared. I want to be a chameleon cause they can change colors, and that’s freaking cool.” Jared said. The class laughed. I bet Jared doesn’t even know how to spell “Chameleon.” I had to look it up myself.

Oh, man. It’s almost my turn. Why didn’t I sit on the last row? Maybe I would have lucked out, and the bell would ring before my turn. Wait. Do we have bells? I don’t even know. Perhaps that’s something we’ll learn in this class.

“My name is something, and I’d be a stingray so I could swim in the ocean,” some kid said.

“My name is blah blah, and I’d be an eagle so I could soar through the sky,” some other kid said.

“I’m blah blah, and I blah because blah blah which would be so much fun,” someone mumbled.

The closer it got to my turn, the more their words turned to mush in my mind. Oh no. It’s my turn.

“My name is Jesse, and I would be a lion cause they’re strong and brave,” I said.

What? What did I just say? I could feel my face heat up and turn red. A few of the students nodded in agreement. What was I thinking? I had been part of Sokol gymnastics most of my life. Sokol literally means “Falcon,” and I chose “Lion”? I could have even said, “A billy goat cause they have cool beards!” Perhaps “dodo bird” or “blue-footed booby” would have been better. I so hate speaking in class.

Thankfully, the next person introduced themselves, and the heat was off of me. My face cooled, and I began to relax. For the first time since we started the introductions, I was able to look around a bit and actually see the people introducing themselves. They were no longer just a blur—a bunch of baby-faced teenagers.

Then it happened. A sunbeam spilled from a nearby window and wrapped itself around the next person to introduce herself; you could see bits of dust floating around in the light. Green grass sprung up from the splotchy tiled floor around her. Green leafy vines wrapped themselves around her desk. Cute little bunnies hopped toward her. Butterflies were fluttering by, and sparrows danced about her head. It is important to note here that no flowers sprung up from this imaginary tale because she is allergic to them, and that would not be realistic.

“Hi. My name is Julie. I would be a three-toed sloth because they have no natural enemies, are intentional, and can easily adapt to their environment. Most people think they are slow, but they can be very fast under the right conditions,” she said.

“Huh,” I thought. Man. I thought I messed up with the whole “lion” bit. This girl is crazy. I’ve got to know more. What was her name again? “Julie.” I’ve got to remember that.

A few more students introduced themselves and their animals and their reasonings, but frankly, they were all an unremarkable blur.

With that, the professor said, “That’s a great start for today, everyone. Have a great day. You are dismissed.”

I don’t remember what happened next. All I could think of was a “three-toed sloth.” What a weird thing to say.

I exited the classroom and continued with my first day. So far, so good.

Julie and I have been married for almost thirty years now. I’m rounding up, but not much. I can say with complete certainty that “three-toed sloth” was absolutely the correct answer then and still is now. She set herself apart from the other students that day. She still sets herself apart from the other students of life these days as an amazing wife, mother, entrepreneur, and family physician.

If you happen to be talking with her, please don’t tell her that I said I wanted to be a lion in our University 101 class. That’s just embarrassing.

Fun fact: three-toed sloths only poop once a week. They have to climb all the way down their tree, do their business, and then all the way back up. It’s a whole ordeal. This is not one of the reasons Julie listed for her desire to be a three-toed sloth, just to be clear.