I take it that my daughter mostly likes her first college semester. Frankly, I feared that her school experience might have been marred because of her delayed start due to COVID. That was my projection based on an experience I had.
Specifically, two days before I went to grad school at the University at Albany in 1979 in Public Administration, I got a small infection in my toe. By the time I had to register for classes, I was in dire pain. Right after I completed the process, I limped over to the infirmary. They put me in bed immediately for the next six days. The staff feared that the infection running up my leg would run up to my heart and kill me.
(This is, BTW, one of the reasons I worried about my wife when she had HER infection in October and why I, long before any of her doctors mentioned it, insisted that she keep her leg elevated.)
The result for me was that I felt behind in my classwork. After a year, I dropped out and instead worked at a comic book store for 8.5 years.
But my daughter was fine. She eventually figured out where the cafeteria was and found her classes. She made a couple of friends in her dorms, and all in all, she’s doing pretty well.
Well, except in one of her courses. The class breaks up into teams of six, and they are supposed to put together a coherent PowerPoint-type presentation with each team member contributing just one or two slides. But one of her colleagues both overproduced and added indefensible opinions. Her team never met when everyone was present.
So I got a text from my daughter asking if we could talk on Facebook Meet. For 2.5 hours, we talked mainly about that topic, and I recommended sources to look at. But we also spoke about the school, her mom’s condition, and people asking about her at church. This was very nice.
Just maybe I miss her a little.