My senior program follows our state university's undergraduate calendar. They afford their students a substantial winter break, enough weeks to do some serious traveling or volunteering. These weeks also permit the senior division to hold minicourses, usually weekly for a few sessions, invariably online. I have never attended, prefering control of my unscheduled weeks, usually with a few days travel.
But as Phil the Groundhog made his annual winter prediction, our classes reassembled. My preferences did not go as well as last time. Closed out of a course on enhancing drawing skills. Closed out of a course on baseball that I would have liked to take. Accepted to a course on what I thought was Guitar for Beginners. It turned out to require a level of pre-requisite skill that not only did I not have but could not reasonably catch up on my own. In the past I've only dropped one course, driven by disdain for the experience with the professor. I will need to drop this one to make room for somebody else.
That leaves me with four classes, three in person lasting the full semester, the fourth by Zoom the second half. All take place late morning, which allows me to complete treadmill exercise before heading off without having to modify my customary time or reduced a few minutes from a session.
I drove to my first class. Since the school's first time slot had gone to its midpoint when I arrived at the campus, I expected to find myself needing to park in an overflow lot. There turned out to be ample spaces where I've parked in the past, though the handicap-designated lot adjacent to mine seemed full. I pulled into a space a little farther from the entrance tha the specific space I seek out when I arrive for the early session, but not that many extra steps. Usually, I take a thermos of coffee, but opted not to. They offer coffee, but require students to bring their own insulated mugs. Mine do not fit beneath the Keurig's dispensing mechanism, so when I take coffee, I make it at home.
Not many people in the lobby when I entered. Tom the Officer who makes sure the students, the frail elderly and more sturdy like me, make it across the roadway safely, must have been reassigned. I walked inside. Bitterly cold weather, though probably a few degrees warmer than what Phil the Groundhog encountered at dawn a hundred miles north of us, caused us to dress warmly. I replaced my beanie cap and fleece gloves into the coat, pocket, hung it on a hook on the coatrack, then picked up my ID tag. They changed the format slightly. While I have lanyards from previous years, I took a new one. The plastic sleeve that accepts the name tag now clips to the lanyard. I found the previous safety pin unreliable. Mine and many others would slip off, causing the lost and found employee in the office to chase a fair number of us down to return what had dropped onto their floors. I think the current plastic clip will perform better.
Not many people in the lobby when I arrived, but morning classes were still in progress. Once they let out, the central area filled with people. Likely a mixture of those departing from their class, new people like me awaiting their first session, and a fair number who enrolled in two classes that morning.
Still nearly a half-hour before my class would begin. I sat in the library which has the most comfortable chairs for a few minutes. Often I would stroll outside on the patio, sometimes venturing beyond to the small collection of gardens. They had one doorway blocked off. I do not know if their security staff thought the outdoors too icy for seniors. The chill itself seemed adequate deterrent. Instead, I traversed the lower atrium, then took the elevator to the second floor where my class would meet. Chairs lined the upper corridor, many occupied. I looked for an empty room with desks to maybe sit down and write. None empty. As I poked around, a former professor who ran a very worthy course, stood at the entrance to his assigned classroom greeting the new students entering. We recognized each other. Despite our name tags, I addressed him as Reverend, he called me Doctor. His class would be new to him, but still philosophically based. He opted for a short textbook rather than a series of Great Courses CDs, which have come to dominate many of the live OLLI sessions. Some current students entered. I moved along to my class, treating myself to a few moments in a chair in the hall before taking my seat in the classroom.
This professor had quite a lot of experience as a senior health care manager, just right for his course on American healthcare. We received a list of topics for each lecture. And for the most part, that's what they are, with selected audiovisual supplements. The class engaged with each other about half the session. I left content that at least one class will go well, after a few iffy offerings the previous semester.
Following the class, I walked downstairs, then across the parking lot to my car. No problems exiting. I could have driven home but opted to dirvert to the supermarket for a few staples. Then home. It had been a gratifying morning.
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