Tear down the walls

I'm proctoring an exam in an auditorium like classroom with the same brick walls, gator jerseys, and blue chairs,  I used to sit in to take exams as an undergrad. Now I'm at the front of the classroom again, not because I want to pay close attention to the teacher, but because I want to pay close attention to the students. I walk around looking for signs of cheating and cheaters. I see a huddled group of friends that perhaps studied together and are now just sitting close for moral support, but this loving group of friends is often more likely to collaborate and help each other: they are usually picked up in my first scan for cheaters. I remember sitting in classes with my best friend throughout my life, hoping that we both do well. Looking at a question, knowing which answers we discussed in a study group as friends and which ones we were all going to discuss after the exam as the ones we should have discussed before. It's bitter sweet being here, being on the other side of this imaginary transition-marking wall. Of course, there is a sense of accomplishment, a the sweetness and joy of experience, but there's also a tinge of nostalgia. The kind that makes you miss your friends, your younger life. But the satisfaction of having lived and conquered is elevating. There is also a reminder that there are other walls and other sides to cross over eventually. Until then, it is so crucial to make amazing use of the side I am on right now. I take this moment to feel the here and now, because some day,  from another angle, I'll look at this then old spot and hopefully have a deep sense of connection and understanding of the world and the several phases we all pass through. If there's such a thing as a calling, mine is to be a teacher, or to simply pass on what I know.  I'd want to help lay the bridge that helps someone else cross over, obviating boundaries and constraints, potentially into limitlessness...