Samuel -
08/19/2019When I first came to Bevill State, I was a high school kid that had no idea on what he wanted to do or who I even wanted to be. I remember talking to my mom and saying something along the lines of,
“Oh, I am just going to Bevill to get my basic studies done, and then I will decide what I want to be.”
However, I got an academic scholarship from the college ($1,500 per semester), and, along with Pell, I was able to go through all my studies without having to pay out of pocket (except for the one Summer class that I took, which was around $489.00). So, I decided that I would go through with the full two years, and I enrolled as a computer science major (information technology). Yet, this would change.
…
I stepped into my English 101 class (a prerequisite that any college student will have to take—no matter the degree). I was nervous, which was natural; I was new to this area: I lived in Jefferson & Blount County, and Bevill (Sumiton) was in Walker.
The room was quaint and small. Three rows of tables lined the right side, and, on the left, there was a group of tables arranged in square (I didn’t know it at this time, but this arrangement was sacred—not in the religious sense, yet it was at the same time). On the back wall, there was multiple maps of various locations: Medieval Europe, the British Isle and Ireland, the Mediterranean, and the continental United States. A couple of other students in the class had already taken their seats. It was a small class—for a 101.
I took a seat on the middle row of tables on the right side. I took out my phone and went through some social media. Some of the other students where talking about their classes and how they were going to dread this semester. One girl sat on the row behind me. She was brunette (though she is blonde now), had a nose ring, and was wearing a basic rolled jean, t-shirt, sneaker combo. She carried a certain punkish attitude. Being the eighteen-year-old I was, I thought she was cute (though I never told her or even worked up the courage to form any kind of relationship with her. Reflecting on it, it wouldn’t have gotten anywhere).
After around twenty to twenty-five minutes of waiting, a short woman with Spanish gray hair and white undertones walked into the room. She carried a little folder that was pink with a lime green buffalo check pattern.
“Shalom!” She walked over to the square and rested her eyeglasses that were atop her head on one of the tables. “So, how is everyone’s classes so far?”
No one spoke (it is like that for most of the classes—even more so on first days). We sat there in silence for a couple of minutes before one of the students chimed in.
“It’s been exhausting.”
I turned my head and, sure enough, it was the nose ring girl.
“That sounds about right.” She walked over to the front of the room and faced the class. “Stand up.”
We all gave each other a quick glance indicating to one another that we had no idea what was about to happen.
“Stand up, all of you.”
We all started to emerge from our seats.
“Now, repeat after me: Who goes there?”
We echoed. “Who goes there?”
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”
She paused for a bit, smiled, then pointed at one of the students sitting in the back. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“My name is Maci, and I am here as a nursing student.” She was a shy girl, carried herself low, and had dirty blonde hair.”
This went on till every student had explained who they were and why they were here. When she got to me, I said, “My name is Sam, and I am a computer science major.”
I remember that when I said those words aloud it tasted bitter. I believe the instructor knew as well because she gave me an odd expression as if saying, Yeah, right.
When she was finished pointing and hearing from the students, she smiled and then said, “Now that you are embarrassed a bit, go ahead and shake your hands with your neighbor and introduce yourself.”
...
And that is how my first class at Bevill went. From there, I would go on to change my major to English and pursue that field. The Spanish Gray woman, who's name is Angie Lazarus, would go on to be my mentor (along with Jimmy Ellenburg and Stephen W. B. Rizzo). My time at Bevill is a long and extensive list or actions and events. So many, in fact, that it is hard to sit down and discuss them all without writing a novel. I enjoyed my time there, and would recommend the college to anyone