From inside a classroom whose windows are draped in winding vines, from minds emerging out of the closed boxes of which they were encased before they entered this room, through the misty eyes that are often confused, but more often intrigued and through the changing light of the seasons by which we sit in that circular desk formation, I kept watching our minds, that curiosity, that shock, the intensification, the eunoia, the beautiful minds at work. The vines that hang and confine, yet accompany us in that room had not yet witnessed this when, at a quarter after three each day, I hear new crevices of dusty corners of dull minds awakened with a sense of renewal, of revelation and of inspiration. Oh, I see it all. I see minds that do not want to open themselves up out of fear and trepidation that what is new will be unfamiliar and uncomfortable. I see intelligence brought about by what is unnatural to these freshmen college students. I see surprise, and laughter that encompass our learning crack open the hard, lifeless, unyielding skulls that restrict our intelligent brains from growth. I see beautiful ideas emerge from those who fear not if they are correct but profess the meanings of which words hold for them. I see those who so badly want to speak but do not know if it is right or acceptable, they too have ideas that we want to hear. I see Black Walnut Trees and smell the citrus-y scent of their fruits because never before would I pick up one of those round, green weird looking balls that fell from a tree and open my mind up to what it holds. I pick up the black walnut of my own life and smell a new scent emerge from it, one that I have allowed myself to stumble upon because never before would I have picked up a fruit like this off of my mind’s ground. I see feet in shoes that would rather be bare and free like Gabe’s used to be, and minds to accompany those bare feet that would rather be unrestricted, as well. I see grades destroy confidence, but at the same time, I see astonishment restore it. I see the vines on the window ripped away from the glass to which they have clung for so many years in William’s Hall because the ideas that emerge from this classroom force all restrictions of our minds to be removed, and rip down the old vines by which our minds have clung for so long. I see clear mind windows with no vines, that allow the light of intelligence to shine in on the once dusty corners. I see a new part of an old world.
