I am the best student at that which is not in the classroom. If puddle jumping were graded, I’d never miss an assignment, although the best part about puddle jumping is that it isn’t graded at all.
If there were tests on how to adore another human, I’d already have my degree. If homework were kisses and laughter and love, I’d be a straight “A” student. My studies would be textbooks pushed off the table that we only use to entangle. Human anatomy learned by my own hands, eyes, lips, legs. Graded papers stacked only to be used as stands for coffee mugs, leaving circular stains as perfect picture frames.
Use your red pen to critique how I sing lullabies and never miss the sadness behind a fake smile. Give me a grade point average for diligence or dedication, patience or passion. Crunch the numbers. Put it on a transcript. Measure my worth if that is what you insist on doing.
But when you find it doesn’t fit on a transcript, that the numbers don’t add up, define me by my score in the classroom, because that is the way things are done.
This is Caleb. His super powers include taking great photos and being surprisingly effervescent. His weakness? Being way too easily distracted by beautiful things. But that helps with the photography aspect of life… So it’s not such a bad weakness to have.
It is uncommon to find people who really see the world, who actually see others. How many times a day is the old Admin building passed, glanced at, overlooked? How many times a day do individuals look at one another and fail to truly see anything worthwhile? The best artists show the world what they see, and Caleb sees a lot. I have an assumption that his camera can never keep up.
I’ve had a few shots of him for several weeks from a brief adventure we took to welcome the new year. They’ve been used to practice sketching buildings and stairwells. Usually I dislike drawing anything that can’t answer back. So… when is comes to architecture I doodle and break every shading law in existence because I prefer to scribble without thought.
But a couple sketches, while lacking in plenty of ways, turned out to be at least interesting. So here’s to many moments of sketching in coffee shops without diligence and sneaking a sharpie out of my backpack in class from time to time. A line at five, a shadow at ten. It’s not much, but it adds up to plenty of scribbles which I’m going to go ahead and call art.
We’ve all seen it, the lovely little college brochures that advertise university life. Pictures of smiling students reading and learning spread across the pamphlets. The groups are always diverse; the sun is always shining; and the grass is always green.
Such photographs are quaint and represent any given university to an extent. But here in my snowy Northern town, I’ve come to view our campus in a different light. The following is a quick glance of what I have observed.
It’s only a few unedited shots, but it’s the campus I know.
Here are the dorms. This is where they want you to live.
This is the wide grassy yard they show you. Across the way are just a few places where they want you to buy food, topped with more dorms where they would like you to live.
This is the long path where they capture countless pictures of students merrily walking along, chatting on their way to class.
This is where knowledge is king.
I have met with my English professor in this building. It is a maze. But the view from the top window is beautiful.
Here is one of the buildings for the theatre department, conveniently located by a fire hydrant in case it ever spontaneously combusts.
These bikes are star models in the average college brochure. Cheerful, friendly looking students zip in and out of the frame, seemingly eager to learn.
However, most students prefer a car. There are always strangers rushing by. You see them, but you will never know their name.