Each time I return home from college I find myself walking down the haunted hallways of my Alma Mata. The school may not seem haunted because the halls & classrooms are filled with the laughing, chattering, and locker-slamming of about 200 students. But the halls are different. Seventh graders are now sophomores & the high school hallway now houses nearly the entire student body: first through twelfth. 200 used to be the number that described seventh through twelfth grade, now it embodies the entire enrollment.
Some things haven't changed, though. The noise of life is still there. And the teachers. The teachers are much the same. Many of the teachers I had in elementary and high school are still there, teaching another generation to "grow up in the nurture & admonition of the Lord." The teachers themselves are little hauntings. Though they are the same, they have changed. Some were my parents' teachers. Some are still teaching students what they taught my parents, my siblings, myself, & my peers. Others have taken on new roles: a history teacher has added seventh grade English to his roster, the computer teacher also runs the lunchroom, & the drama teacher also heads the maintenance. Even with changes, the school reminds me of the old days & gives me the comfort of being home.
As I immerse myself into the hallways, observing the teachers as a college student and future teacher, I find my mind returning to the recent past. I see the hallway, though filled with living, breathing bodies, haunted by old memories of my elementary, junior high, & high school days. Instead of being a junior in college studying to b an English & drama teacher, I am transformed back into a student of Tri-City Christian School. I remember conversations my friends & I had in those hallways, the lessons we heard & ignored, & the activities we were involved in after school.
My friends. It's funny how three years can make old friends seem like strangers. Since our graduation, we have all taken different paths. 18 different paths. One is serving our country in the Marines & the others split between starting vocations & going to college. Our relationship status' span from single to married to starting a family. It's weird, growing up & moving on. While I have never been one to regret, I look back on fond memories. Some outcomes bring smiles, others pain, & a few bring both.
My Alma Mata does not just haunt me of the past, but encourages me. As I sit in the classes & hear lessons, the passion to teach rises within me. The three semesters that stand between me & student teaching seem to be an eternity. Oh, how I want to teach now! And not just anywhere--I want to be like my mom & Mrs. Scroggins--I want to return to my Alma Mata to teach. Why? because I love the school, purple runs through my veins, & because I want to continue the legacy stated in our Alma Mata:
Righteousness & character
Virtues for our guide
From the halls of dear Tri-City
Ever shall abide
