Shiny Every Day

The past few weeks are blurring together. More assignments, more presentations, more books than I can recall, and now, at the end of the school year, a strong sense of saying goodbye.
The feeling of farewell comes from a number of events. The Japanese student I've been tutoring for eight months takes the TOEFL exam and heads home this weekend. She's made such amazing progress, for which I can take little credit. If Mari goes home with a little too much American independence in her spirit, I may have to take the blame for that.
Yesterday I presented a philosophy paper for Scholars' Day, an annual event that features scholastic presentations from across the entire campus. After all the months of writing, preparing a PowerPoint, bracing for difficult questions, and practicing, it's over. Since it was also my late father's birthday, I got a little emotional on my way home. Luckily, my friend Sandra came down to see my presentation and have dinner with me before I started the commute, so I didn't feel totally awful.
Seniors are graduating, and I'm not sure who I'll see on campus this fall. Seniors no longer wander college campuses wearing funny little hats, so you can't tell them from the rest of the students. In this week before finals, we all look exhausted and baggy in the face -- even the freshmen.
Next week my philosophy professor, who has inspired everyone in Ethics so much, is heading off to Europe to present his doctoral thesis. Tomorrow is our last regular class day, and that may make me tear up, too. I won't get to take another philosophy class from him, and other students will need to have dinners with him to hash out their papers next fall. I guess that means I'll have to read all those philosophers on my own -- which may have been the point of the classes. Tomorrow also will be my last class with Trevor, who I met my first day of school. He's graduating from the English program, and I've learned a lot about the culture of the department from his perspective.
The choking up is not all sentiment. A large part of my emotion stems from having to do four presentations, in front of large numbers (over three people is a large group) of students and professors, in just over seven days. I usually don't cry at weddings, and most sentimental songs leave me cold, but make me write papers and present them for too many days, and I weep like the traditional little old lady with the lace hankie.
One more looooooong paper and three finals, and the waterworks will shut down for the year, I most sincerely hope. Once I get a few nights' sleep, I'll be able to watch the most romantic movies known to man without even a tiny tear. Then I'll go back to being as Mari sees me, in her words: "shiny every day."