St. Thomas hosted the 6th annual awards ceremony to honor the work of three social entrepreneurs around the world – unsung heroes who are working to solve society’s most vexing and persistent problems. The winner, Aicha Ech Channa of Morocco, received $1 million and the other two, Sister Valeriana Garcia-Martin of Columbia and Father Hans Stapel of Brazil, each received $100,000.

The crowd at Orchestra Hall in Minneapolis was large and enthusiastic; people got to their feet for a half-dozen standing ovations.

The video stories of the three winners and their organizations were graceful.

The introductions of each honoree by St. Thomas students were insightful – and the remarks from master of ceremonies Carol Breuss and Father Dennis Dease were thoughtful.

“They had a grand vision and, just as importantly, a steely resolve to make life better for those who struggle,” Father Dease said in presenting the Opus awards. “I know that I, for one, will take away from this experience a desire to do more.”

Finally, the organization of the event, right down to the three translators (French, Portuguese and Spanish), was meticulous.

The most impressive part, however, was the winners themselves: Aicha and Association Solidarité Féminine and its work with single mothers and their children; Sister Valeriana and Hogares Luz y Vida and its work with children who have physical and mental disabilities; and Father Hans and Fazenda da Esperanca and its treatment centers for drug and alcohol addicts.

The work of the three is inspired by their faith in God, their belief that they can change things, their unbridled optimism and their loving concern for fellow human beings. All this made for a feel-good evening, a testament to what good people can do to improve the human condition—with a combination of compassion, concern and courage.

Most encouraging was the number of students in the audience – I estimate at least a couple of hundred – and their enthusiasm over the winners. One of those students was junior Sahr Brima, who met Father Hans on a due-diligence trip to Brazil and introduced him to the Orchestra Hall audience.

“My experience in Brazil exposed me to the power of faith lived out and the indomitable nature of love. Father Hans and Nelson (Giovanelli) are addressing socioeconomic and spiritual needs in people around the world,” Sahr said. “I pray that God will use me in a similar capacity.”

One of my long-time friends, Sister Mary Frances Reis of the Visitation Monastery of North Minneapolis, attended the ceremony and called Thursday morning. “Dave,” she said, “did you look at the faces of those in the videos, the teenagers and the children? I really do believe you could look into them and see the face of the Lord.”

She may be right. I looked into the faces of the winners and saw someone my age – Medicare eligible – still behaving as though they were just starting the race. That means I’m still in the running.

In short, she is an extremely remarkable woman, and I will be absolutely honored to see her again at the Opus Prize event on Wednesday evening. I also look forward to meeting the other two finalists for the $1 million Opus Prize: Aïcha Ech Channa of Casablanca, Morocco, and Father Hans Stapel of Guaratinguetá, Brazil.

During our visit to Colombia, we did not tell Sister Valeriana that we represented a Minnesota foundation interested in awarding her a substantial sum for her charitable work. However, it was a struggle to explain our presence in sufficiently vague terms in case the visit would be affected by the knowledge of our endeavor. In any case, we witnessed the work of her organization on an ordinary day – and what we witnessed was truly extraordinary.

Sister Valeriana led us into the rooms where the children slept. The rooms were filled with vibrant, playful bedspreads, which the children shared with a host of delightful stuffed animals. I chuckled when one boy about five years old showed me his secret collection of trading cards (stored under the mattress for safekeeping, of course).

It was humbling to hear that most of these children had been abandoned after birth by parents who were unwilling or unable to carry the burdens associated with their disabilities. Sister Valeriana said that even though she was cramped for space, she would not hesitate to find room for another such child when the need arose.

You will hear many more humbling and amazing stories Wednesday evening if you take the time to head to Orchestra Hall. Please join me!

The latest example came out of the blue last week from Jean Stack of St. Cloud, who, with her children, had a chance encounter on Oct. 17 with four St. Thomas students at the China Star Buffet in St. Cloud. She didn’t know who they were, but believed they had been at the St. Thomas-St. John’s football game that afternoon in nearby Collegeville. They were wearing St. Thomas t-shirts.

“I wanted to go up to them and let them know how impressed I was by them, but I didn’t want to risk embarrassing them. I still can’t help but think about them today and felt it was necessary to somehow let them know what an awesome impression they left on me. Their manners with their waiter also were very polite.”

Stack said she hopes that her own teen-aged sons behave appropriately in such situations, “but you often don’t know what they do when ‘mom’ isn’t around.”

She concluded: “I would like for them and their parents to know what great guys I think they are! Also let them know that they are now included in my prayers.”

Mine, too.

Other schools that have hosted the foundation include Marquette, the University of San Francisco, Notre Dame and Catholic University. So it’s an honor for St. Thomas to be chosen by Opus as a partner in recognizing unsung heroes who deal with society’s most persistent social problems.

What I don’t want you to forget is a campus organization that also is dealing with a persistent social problem: the lack of people of color working in newsrooms, public relations and ad agencies across the country. Trying to raise those numbers is the goal of ThreeSixty, the fledgling non-profit that’s been at St. Thomas since 2001. Its annual fundraiser comes two days after the Opus event – Friday evening, Nov. 6, in Binz Refectory.

Thirteen of those students are attending St. Thomas, part of the 14-percent undergraduate student of color enrollment. That’s an eye-popping figure, consistent with President Dennis Dease’s goal to be a university reflecting the fabric of the metro area that is its home.

Six of the ThreeSixty grads since 2001 are working in newsrooms. Dhomonique Ricks is a reporter and weekend anchor at a television station in Lynchburg, Va., where she got her start this summer after graduating from the University of Missouri’s broadcast program.

She sent a videotape to Lynda McDonnell, executive director of ThreeSixty, to show at the Nov. 6 fundraiser. Watching it, I couldn’t help but feel the pride and passion she has as a reporter, taking the viewer on a tour of her newsroom. In six months, she’s covered fires and floods, features and festivals, murders and mishaps. She looks into the camera and says, “I absolutely love what I do.”

Chandler Sentell, a COJO senior at St. Thomas, shares the feeling – albeit with more limited experience. Sentell, who attended the ThreeSixty journalism camp in 2005, spent last summer as an intern in the KARE television newsroom.

“I feel I learned a lot and got some experience,” he said. “They let me write some short stories and I was able to watch how people did their jobs. I loved it.”

One of his mentors at KARE was Matt Lechner, a St. Thomas grad and the morning news producer. He’s a news veteran and a good writer. The news vice president at KARE is a fan of Lechner’s and also took note of the enthusiasm that Sentell had for his internship.

What made that remarkable is that Chandler had to be at KARE every Monday and Tuesday for his shift at 4 a.m. Yep, 4 in the morning. And he still wants to be a broadcast news reporter.

Now that’s a testimonial to ThreeSixty – and the kind of young men and women it helps down the road.

P.S. Want tickets to the ThreeSixty fundraiser on Nov. 6 – 6-8:30 p.m. in the Binz Refectory? Get tickets here

“Tommie Days” unfolded right outside my office on the first floor of OEC last Thursday and Friday. The sounds of our helpful Admissions counselors answering similar if not identical questions over and over again, each time with an authentic smile in their voice, filled the halls. As I eavesdropped in between meeting current students and – I’ll admit – snacking on a cookie or two, I experienced a real source of sweetness on our campus. Yes, define the term “sweet” however you will: “awesome,” “delightful,” “pleasing to the senses” or “gratifying.” I think the work of our Admissions staff is all that, and more.

I have no clue. But what I do know is that our Admissions team is one well-run and energy-filled group doing some really important and hard work: representing the work of the rest of us! It isn’t easy work (I can make that claim with a bit of expertise, being married to a guy who works with Admissions at a nearby university). It sure is important work. And it’s hard work, especially in these tough economic times. Yet they make it look easy.

Great work, Admissions! We appreciate what you do.

For some reason, I had a number of conversations recently with St. Thomas employees about their feelings regarding the university. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the high unemployment rate. Maybe it’s the overall economic uncertainty. Maybe it’s just that stage in people’s lives and employment.

Attitudes varied.

Another administrator and a faculty member told similar stories of considering employment elsewhere but rejecting the move because of the sense of community and shared mission here.

I heard both a faculty member and a staff member express concerns about being asked increasingly to do more and more. I asked why they thought that happened. The answer was that they didn’t think anyone knew quite how much they do. Perhaps there’s a lesson there: we need to make a better effort to realize what other people’s responsibilities are before we ask for more or for different.

A staff member was grateful that in troubled times St. Thomas has not laid anyone off, reduced pay or resorted to involuntary furloughs. Survey data indicate that we all have a similar hierarchy of issues that we complain about in the job. When salary is adequate, we complain about benefits, work conditions, the boss. When the pay is too low, fewer people mention the lesser irritations. Everything pales in comparison with having no job at all.

Another told me that the caring and supportive members of his unit made all the difference to him in his consideration of his employer. I’ve read studies that show the No. 1 factor in how much we enjoy our job is the people with whom we work closely.

A long-time faculty member noted how the sense of commitment has changed over time, observing that newer faculty are less involved. When I suggested that might be because they didn’t have the half-century here that she and I shared, she said the new faculty just didn’t feel appreciated enough; that the evaluation process has created a wedge. I’ve heard similar complaints about the pay-for-performance standards on the staff side. Sometimes it is hard to say how much we appreciate someone for fear of sounding sappy. (Veronica, you do a terrific job and I am grateful.)

I remember in the old days, then-president Terrence Murphy would compare St. Thomas to a family. The implication was that we all pulled together no matter what. When disaster struck one of us, we all pitched in. If we had a fight, we still loved each other.

That may have been true when the institution was smaller and more homogenous. I’m not sure. But by the time I arrived, I don’t think family was an accurate comparison. Most of the time I’ve been here, I’d say the better comparison would be to a small town. Especially with tenure, faculty are unlikely to move out. Young people do move on. When disputes arise, we have to figure out how to live with each other after the storm passes. No one is moving down the road, but there isn’t the tie of love or blood that keeps us together. Fairness is important. When one suffers, others suffer. We know a lot of each other’s business. Okay, we gossip.

Contemplating my employer, I recalled the reasons I came here 28 years ago. The landscaping – it indicated a financially solid institution. The other economists – their interactions told me that St. Thomas is a community of caring and respect. The purple trash cans – I love purple.

The trash cans are gone, but I am still here. Those other two reasons count for a lot.

Who doesn’t love the fall colors, or getting hopelessly lost in a corn maze, and you can’t beat the feeling of sleeping with the windows wide open, allowing the cold, crisp air to force you under a mound of blankets you haven’t seen since last winter. There is also excitement and energy as campus comes back to life, and that’s why I love the month and all the promises of the new academic year.

Also, let’s be real: walking to work through campus on a nice, sunny September afternoon can be cruel. I wanted to be with students sitting on the grass, chatting about weekend plans, playing Frisbee or procrastinating over homework. I miss the days of shuffling between classes, being on the tennis team, study parties in the library and decking out in my Gustie gear to cheer on the fall sport teams; yes, I am aware St. Thomas may have beat us at almost every sport, but I still have my Gustie pride. September served as a reminder that I was no longer an undergraduate student. Graduate school is great and all, but it’s all academics minus the fun.

Lucky for me, I was able to find a career path that allows me to be part of the college community. As I enter my second year working as a graduate assistant in the Office of Campus Life, my concerns with being a college graduate have faded, and I have come to love working with college students even more than being one.

The students at St. Thomas never cease to impress me with the dedication and professionalism in their everyday activities. Working next door to the student leadership offices, I get to see firsthand all the hard work and passion the students put into their roles to help make St. Thomas great and to serve others, along with developing their own character.

In the book No Neutral Ground, Robert B. Young states, “Higher education does not make people equal. That goal is too low. Instead, the aim is to increase the development of individuality.”

The opportunities St. Thomas gives to students are doing just that: developing individuality. What they are doing outside of the classroom, paired with their academics, is developing as a whole. I cannot help but be excited to come into work every day to hear new ideas from students and guide them through the process of making their ideas a reality. Fishing Club? Entrepreneurial Society? Colleges Against Cancer? Women’s Water Polo? Let’s do it! Here’s how.

As I reflect further, I realize I may have more love for September than sorrow. Working with students and watching them grow, along with my own growth, has proven to be an even greater experience than my days in college. I can honestly say the spirit and sense of community I feel at St. Thomas has loosened my Gustie pride and made me proud to put on my purple every Tuesday.

Don’t get me wrong, though. I still would rather be outside playing catch on a warm September afternoon than sitting in front of my lonely office computer. Thankfully, the colder October weather is bringing students back into the buildings, keeping me company.

Although we’ve always adored living adjacent to campus, last weekend proved to be an exciting opportunity to fully embrace the richness and to witness the extent to which we really do live in – to borrow Father Dease’s recent words – the best place. Our newfound appreciation of life in the neighborhood was all thanks to our dying “Big Old Tree.”

Being the glass-half-full types, my neighbors and I quickly organized a party to bid farewell to our “Big Old Tree.” We gathered last weekend around her mighty trunk. We lifted our glasses in her honor and, well, we stayed up way past our bedtimes. It was a night none of us will soon forget. Why? What? Do tell!

It was, quite simply, one of those magical evenings “in the neighborhood,” a blending of young and old, early and late, musical and lyrical, chit and chat, alive and (nearly) dead (the tree, that is). Our hearts were warmed by students who added words of adoration (“We’ll miss you, Big Old Tree” and “Thanks for being here so long”) to the notes we already had lovingly attached to her massive trunk. We enjoyed the folksy, fabulous music provided by two English professors. Yes, have you heard? Professors Andy Scheiber and Liz Wilkinson are not only smart academics, but talented musicians and songwriters, too! They have a CD and might be willing to play at your parties. A huge thank you to them for making our neighbor party most dreamy. Your debut of “Big Old Tree,” written just for the occasion, brought deep gladness and stirred many emotions. (You can listen and download a free MP3 of “Big Old Tree” at www.tinyurl.com/wilkyjames. Just click on “Additional songs” and then into Andy’s song annex.)

Long after the notes were hung, songs were sung, food devoured and lights strung around the mighty trunk, our neighborhood proceeded to come alive, right before our very eyes. Students enjoying the warm fall air strolled to and from gatherings with friends. Many of them stopped to inquire about our Big Old Tree, taught us “older folks” some of their hip slang and reported about their entrepreneurship majors and journalism minors. We reminded those getting in cars never to drink and drive. Our laughter wafted onto Ashland and Summit. We enjoyed their youthful energy even though it was well past midnight and way past the older folks’ bedtime.

What do you get when you add neighbors + students + live music + a dying tree + lights + markers + love notes + tasty snacks and drinks? A really great reason to live where we do, just a few steps from campus.

They did exactly that on a couple of breaking stories recently. The first was a lockdown at St. Paul College after a student reported seeing a man with a gun. It happened late in the morning, and at 12:55 p.m., tommiemedia.com posted the story. The other example of perseverance and awareness is the updating of the cases of H1N1 flu on campus; Brent Fischer reported that the number doubled in a week. The 90-second video updates look crisp and clean, but they’ll be more interesting when the students roll in video to go with the pictures.

So, I am trying to get with the new media flow. But this past week also has been an opportunity to revel in slow-and-old television – with Ken Burns’ documentary, “The National Parks: American’s Best Idea.”

“Today’s national parks,” says Burns, “had a profound and often spiritual impact on the first settlers who saw them and on the visionaries who fought tirelessly to preserve them as the common property of the American people.”

From the field of wildflowers in a meadow near the crest of Crater Lake to the mud pots of Yellowstone, Burns lets the camera linger. I can almost feel my heart rate slow and my mind ease. I pay attention to the words and the talking heads, especially Shelton Johnson, a U.S. Park Service ranger. Here he is, one of those much-derided “government workers,” with a passion for his job that few could even imagine, much less imitate.

“I remember the first time I arrived at Yellowstone and I got off the bus,” he says to the camera, “. . . and I was stepping down onto the ground and there was a bison walking by – just strolling by.

“And I said to the driver, ‘Does this happen all the time?’ He looked at me and said, ‘All the time.’ And I said to myself, ‘I have arrived. I can’t imagine any other place.’ ”

I was envious – truly envious – of his passion. I had just a fleeting thought: maybe I ought to have been that “forest ranger” I always talked of wanting to be when I was 10.

That’s how it is with slow-and-old media, including that anachronism called a daily newspaper: They make you stop and think.

The unique characteristic of St. Thomas is how it intertwines all elements of life in its curriculum. Opportunities abound to pursue a plethora of academic, artistic, social, athletic and professional interests. This is our greatest strength. Our graduates cannot help but be well-rounded individuals.

Unfortunately, I noticed that some of my friends who walked south through the Arches after graduating last spring were apprehensive to leave the confines of John Ireland’s statue. Some of this hesitancy can be explained by a natural fear of the unknown, but another element may have been at play in their minds: never again would they be challenged in the same way to become a more holistic individual.

In other words, our minds will be pressured to focus our endeavors on our professions. We mostly will leave our freewheeling days behind us in hopes that they have left their mark.

It isn’t a tragedy that we focus on our careers upon receiving a diploma. Rather, it seems a natural part of leaving a campus such as St. Thomas. We cannot be expected to take our excellent education and squander it. Rather, the hope is that our understanding of art, commerce, philosophy, theology, literature and science will benefit us in the long run – in our careers and in life. We will find that that our liberal arts education will pay dividends beyond the realm of salaries and compensation packages. In fact, it is likely that our time spent in the shadows of the Arches will prove very profitable in a variety of ways.

For my part, I plan to make the most of the rest of my time at our university, and I will continue to explore the opportunities that are provided here. Moreover, I will keep in mind that my time is running out. I feel like making a desperate push to take advantage of everything offered by our university while I can.

In closing, I wish to offer this advice to students who have not yet reached their final year: Go join a club in which you are interested, talk to your professors as often as possible, sit down with someone you have never met and eat a meal, play video games less and watch TV as seldom as possible. Go out and experience the richness of our university, or you may regret that your college years, although fantastic, could have been even more rewarding.

Now you might wonder, “What could Susan Alexander – nerd economist, academic, shunner of the limelight – have in common with Ms. Brazile?” A lot, I now think. Furthermore, I’d be willing to bet that almost everyone in that crowd of hundreds who stuffed OEC Auditorium felt a bond with her.

As for my connections with Brazile, they are:

• She precociously began her political career at age nine. She campaigned for a city council member who promised a playground for her neighborhood; he won. I began my political career at a young age as well. At the tender age of five, I fell in love with a candidate who was running for Arkansas attorney general. I was so in love with him that I picked up every flyer he distributed in my small town. Looking back, I don’t think that was the most helpful tactic to further his campaign. He won anyway, but later was removed from office in an oil and natural gas scandal. Because this episode is indicative of my political savvy, maybe Brazile and I don’t have that perfect a bond. Well, Al Gore didn’t win either.

• Then there’s her book, Cooking with Grease. The phrase I always heard was “cooking with gas,” but the idea is the same. And our love of Southern food seems to be the same. Audience members offered recipes for pound cake, pralines, and cornbread. We were one.

• Brazile is a centrist. She says we are a centrist nation. We just haven’t talked that way lately. She called for a return to civility and a search for common ground. She said it was important to listen to both extremes, to learn from them, to respect them as individuals. She related her advice to George Will on Direct TV for maximum baseball coverage. It was all I could do not to leap on to the stage and hug her (and I don’t even like baseball). I don’t think she would have minded.

Other audience members may have felt the same connections or totally different ones. But I know they were connected; you could feel it in the room. I think Brazile may have felt connected to us, too. At the end of the evening, she stayed for photographs – and maybe to collect a recipe or two.

Editor's note: Father Erich Rutten, director of Campus Ministry, contributed this guest column to The Scroll.

We’ve all seen them – quirky, sometimes funny and sometimes annoying bumper stickers.

“Envision whirled peas.” “Dog is my co-pilot.” “When everything’s coming your way, you’re in the wrong lane.” But there is at least one bumper sticker that is worth taking to heart: “Practice Random Acts Of Kindness And Senseless Acts Of Beauty.”

Last spring, in the heart of the financial crisis which has impacted so many and in the midst of the tragic disappearance and death of freshman Dan Zamlen, members of our community got together to promote a campaign to support “Acts of Kindness” at UST and in our local community.

This year, let us all make a point to reach out each day by performing at least one act of kindness. It might be as simple as a smile or a hello or lifting up a quick prayer. It might be organizing a food drive in your department or club or organization. It might be sending a card to someone who needs a good word. It might be spending time to listen or time to help.

The Office for Mission and the Human Resources Department, along with representatives from all areas of the UST community, will be promoting “Acts of Kindness” throughout this coming year.

We will hold our first public Acts of Kindness event at noon Thursday with “Flower Power.” Children from the St. Thomas Child Development Center will help us give flowers to passersby in the lower quadrangle of the St. Paul campus as an act of kindness, and will suggest that they pass along the flowers to others as their own act of kindness. In Minneapolis, we will give away flowers in the School of Law atrium and outside the Food for Thought restaurant.

I invite you to visit our new Web site to find ideas and resources, and to send your stories of “acts of kindness” to us at actkind@stthomas.edu. Get involved. Make a difference.

Let’s turn this bumper sticker slogan into a life-giving force for good here at St. Thomas and in our communities.

She was too thin. But her brown eyes sparkled and a broad smile creased her face. We just stared at each other, neither saying a word.

In less than two months, the University of St. Thomas and the Opus Prize Foundation will honor three social entrepreneurs from around the world, and one will receive $l million to further humanitarian work. Aïcha is one of the finalists for the Opus Prize.

Aïcha, a 68-year-old Muslim woman, founded her association 25 years ago to provide services to single mothers and their children. Since then, she’s been criticized, castigated, recognized and rewarded. Her critics say she is supporting prostitution. Her supporters say she is fighting for the rights of mothers who are too often maligned and too little supported.

We met several women who managed not only to keep their children but raise them and provide them with opportunities they never had. Adjou Kabob and her daughter, Dounia, live in the slum, one room maybe 10 feet by 12. But Dounia will graduate from high school in a year and has passed her TOEFL exam.

That’s a great story. But the most memorable moments on the trip were with this little girl. After a couple of minutes, I sat down on the pavement, the alley between shacks. We were face-to-face, eye-to-eye and, as strange as this sounds, soul-to-soul.

Her smile seemed so sweet. But that was tempered by an apparent sadness in her eyes, as though she’d seen things I couldn’t imagine and faced uncertainty I could barely understand. She was a youngster, just a kid, with an old soul.

I pointed to the scar on her forehead. Someone said she’d been in an auto accident. I wondered what other misfortunes befell her and what obstacles lay before her. Would she be healthy and strong? Would she go to school? Could she find a skill and get a job?

She reached out to touch my hand. I patted her cheek and she smiled.

And then it was time to get in the car and go. We had another interview lined up, a half-hour away from this neighborhood called El Hank, the site of an old psychiatric hospital that had been invaded by the homeless. They fashioned their own rooms until they could find a better place to stay.

I don’t think it’s likely this little girl will find a better place, at least not for a while. But maybe the same spunk and spirit that allowed her to go up to a stranger will make her a survivor – and give her hope.

Maybe. I’m going to keep her in my morning prayer for awhile, tucked between friends and family.

This time of year is exciting for all of us in higher education. Returning students come energized from their busy summers and ready to make a difference on our campus. They are excited to share the details of their summer-abroad experiences, internships or jobs. New students enter with high hopes and unparalleled excitement to begin this special journey called college.

As I prepare for this academic year, I do not have to search hard for inspiration. These students continually serve as an inspiration and remind me of the gifts and privilege we all have in attending or working at St. Thomas. Through their actions and dedication, they exemplify a true “Tommie.”

At a recent event, junior Sahr Brima addressed his peers and cited Matthew 25: 14-30, which is a passage about talents. After he read this passage, he encouraged all of us to use and share our talents with others. To give back to the community. To pay it forward. I thought this to be a beautiful reminder to each of us as we start this school year. We are all here for a reason, and we all have the choice of what we do with our gifts – whether it be volunteering as a mentor, helping out with the Dease Move-In Crew, supporting students or colleagues at events, or something as simple as an encouraging word or to give thanks.

After working for a few public institutions, I can see the difference between them and St. Thomas. Giving back here is not the exception, it is the norm. Students, staff, faculty and administrators make St. Thomas the outstanding institution it is through their personal attention and commitment to its mission. After each event, working with my students or collaborating with my colleagues, I am overwhelmed with pride in UST and the amazing talents of those who are a part of our community.

As we start this new year, let’s commit ourselves to continue to live our mission, to give back and pay it forward!

I finally gave in. Which is why I spent many August hours up and down the aisles of Target and Ikea. If you haven’t noticed, they are overflowing with items begging and specifically designed to be in your college apartment or residence hall. And in those aisles I was endlessly seen. Choosing. Negotiating (“No, you can’t get a new bed, but how about I sew you some new pillow covers?”). Purchasing. Returning (nine-year-olds have this unsavory habit of changing their minds). And, too often, assembling things (Argh, Ikea!).

It’s irresistible, isn’t it? The urge to sharpen your pencils, buy new socks, clean out your drawers, create your “place,” purchase notebooks and imagine what’s possible for a new (school) year ahead! It clearly was for the students I had the joy of observing and meeting.

Like the four handsome young men – UST students, apparent by screen printings on their shirts – selecting glassware, lighting and a rug for their new apartment on Ashland Avenue.

Or the first-year student at Macalester who had just arrived – moments earlier – from Brooklyn, N.Y. His parents and I chatted. Matt had donned a brand new (the creases still fresh) orange “Macalester” shirt and “new student” lanyard with “new student” ID dangling proudly with the keys to his new room. He and his parents, with a visible sense of nervousness and excitement, shopped for a desk chair, reading lamp and set of sheets.

And then there were the kind and smart young St. Kate’s women – roommates, no doubt – who happily chatted about and gathered goods for their first apartment. I’ll admit I was eavesdropping, but their “we can’t wait to have our own place” conversation simply made me glad. In each case, the enthusiasm about beginning the new school year was, as it always it this time of year, fresh and contagious.

In each of these instances – observations of optimism amid the glue sticks and loose-leaf paper, area rugs and portable filing systems – I was reminded of what I love most about the new academic year. It’s a fresh start. A new slate of possibilities! A boatload of options. And, most importantly, a new set of ideas to be explored and knowledge to be discovered.

Ah, academia. It’s the best, isn’t it? Especially this time of year.