On August 26th , the whole of White Oak’s youth dragged themselves (like the dead) onto the freshly waxed, pungent smelling floors of the schools. They shuffle around, finding their classes groggily, as they have gotten used to sleeping ’til one, though most are looking quite fresh in relation to their first-day-of-school clothes. They look forward to art but dread math- not necessarily the teachers, mind you, but the course– and anticipate getting into the easy flow of being back at school, so that they don’t really have to think. This, unfortunately included me, but I do not complain, and unfortunately I find myself seeking the monotony as well. I truly I believe I will miss the ease when I no longer have it in a few days – in the same short, flying amount of time my first two years went, it’ll all float away from under me… Or is it me that will be floating? I do not know.