Be that guy in the corner

You walk into your class. Your lab. Your study group.

You look around. Everyone seems a little hostile, a little nervous, a little wrapped in their own heads.

And then you see them.

That one person, sitting in the corner, doing whatever it is they feel like doing.

And it’s something about their clothes or the manner in which they carry themselves, but you look at them and you suddenly become E.T.

“Frieeeeeennnnndddd,” your mind says.

Perhaps it is a little creepy, this immediate mental assumption that this stranger and you will be pals.

You feel like maybe they are praying that you won’t look at them and are desperately trying to avoid eye contact.

But then your professor says something like, “You’ll be doing paired work today” or “Turn to the person beside you.”

And then you and this stranger look at each other, one mental fingertip glowing and outstretched, and when you make eye contact they become the Elliot to your E.T., and the soundtrack starts playing.

And you say something gripping and interesting like, “Wanna be partners?”

Or sometimes you don’t say anything, you do that head nod thing where you wave hands back and forth between the two of you.

You telepathically communicate that, yes, I will be your partner now. I will also probably be your group presentation partner and discussion partner and regular everyday partner so long as you sit relatively close to me so I know you’re committed to this relationship.

That person.

I know I’d like to think that I’ll be charming and entertaining and that my classmates will realize that I’m awesome right off the bat and we’ll all get along.

But the reality is that most people are just trying to get through their day, same as you and me.

And while the students here are welcoming and pleasant to be around, the first day of classes — the first day of anything really — is always the toughest.

No one knows what they’re in for and everyone wants to go home and sleep.

Then your professors hand you your syllabi and tell you that even though by the end of the semester you’ll feel like you’ve been run over by a bulldozer, it’s the journey, not the destination, that counts.

And the only thing you can think is that you want to go stick your head in the ground.

So shout out to that one kid, be they tall or short, fat or thin, guy or girl.

The one that saves you from wallowing in your own awkward bumbling.

The one whose presence makes the day go better.

May you always find one, and may you always be one.

­— ewenning@indiana.edu