For six months, I was into everything but teaching at the university where I have been a lecturer, once a week, for the past eight years.
All too soon, my one-semester leave expires. Rested and revved up, I throw away my jeans and flip-flops for skirts and high heels.
A stickler for promptness, I am in school one hour before my 8’o’clock class. At this time, students are still yawning their way into their uniforms at home.
I expect to be greeted by the ice cream man in the lobby. It has been a tradition for students and faculty to be treated to as much ice cream as you can lick on the first day of school. He greets me all right, offering a three-scoop cone which would have sent my blood sugar soaring.
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But early in the morning my defenses are still up. Like a mouse from a cat, I scampered.
However, two strange scenes stop me: a sanitizer by the door, and a masked nurse waiting to take my temperature.
Signs of troubled times indeed! The A(H1N1) virus scare keeps us all leery and weary. I am grateful to the school officers for taking steps to contain it (like postponing the opening of classes), but sights like this jolt us into staring at the precariousness of life.
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Fortunately, these days, believers are hanging by an unbreakable thread called grace. Otherwise, we’d all be racing each other down to the pit of hopelessness.
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