Passing seasons

Claire Doll
MSMU Class of 2024

(6/2025) One year. One year post college graduation, one year turned like a page in a novel, one year dimming into the past like a lightbulb slowly giving out. It is hard to believe that this time last year, I had walked the stage at Commencement, my heels tapping against the floor as I marched into a new chapter of my life. I still remember the excitement in the air, the endless applause as my name was spoken into a crowd of hundreds. I still cherish it to this day.

I want to congratulate Class of 2025 graduates Dolores Hans and Emelie Beckman for their huge accomplishments. Dori and Emelie are wonderful writers, students, and colleagues; I am so excited to hear and read about their accomplishments as they, too, take their first steps into their post-grad chapters. The Emmitsburg News-Journal and Woodsboro-Walkersville News-Journal are both lucky to have known these talented individuals. Likewise, rising senior Devin Owen is more than ready to lead the News-Journal and finish her time at the Mount.

While this has been a whirlwind of a year—from adjusting to life after college to finishing up my first year of teaching—I am grateful for the News-Journal. It keeps me tethered to the Mount, to this community. Every time I visit my alma mater, I am overwhelmed with nostalgia and glittering memories, and this has been the most helpful as I navigate this year. Ten months ago, in the thickening heat and haziness of late summer, I attended a friend’s wedding at the Mount. This was just weeks before move-in, and I didn’t realize how the nostalgia had hit me, like a truck. I had forgotten how summer painted the grass and trees a lively green, how the sun reflected off church bells and stained-glass windows. I had forgotten how the air shimmers with heat, how anticipation lingers within each movement of wind. "A new school year," I thought, and while I would find myself in a classroom that September, it certainly wouldn’t have been in the Knott Academic Center or the Phillips Library. It would have been somewhere new, someplace scary yet exciting.

My friend’s wedding was beautiful, and my memories were quickly replaced with joy. We departed the IC Chapel for the wedding reception, and I didn’t know when I’d be back.

Six months ago, in the very middle of autumn, I found myself back at the Mount for a rugby game. It was difficult to find a weekend that coordinated with all my other graduated friends, but we managed to find a Saturday in October. The sky was thick and gray, the air crisp. It was a joyous occasion, to see everyone again. I even managed to see a friend who graduated in 2022 (Shoutout, Emmy!) and caught up with her. This reunion was perfect. I did all the "Mount" things, like go to Dunkin’ and drive on the autumnal backroads and grab lunch in Gettysburg. For a fleeting moment, it felt like I was in college again. Of course, this thought quickly vanished when I was asked, "How is work?"

Of course, it was great. I love it, and I love teaching. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. I loved talking to my graduated friends about their jobs, as well. There was a certain bittersweet feeling in the air, though. We all missed our lives here, but we couldn’t quite pin it down to a word. "Nostalgia" felt too soon. Although I can’t remember how the rugby game ended, I do remember this being such a memorable visit.

Two months ago, it was still winter, but barely. March. We were back for another rugby game, only this time clothed in sweatpants and sweaters, sitting on blankets in the damp and icy grass. I’ll never forget this winter: snow (finally!) and doing nothing but teaching and reading and sleeping. The dark commute to work; the chilly bite of air as I walked out the door. Winter in teaching is hard. The school year feels eternal, and winter to spring is always an uphill battle. Visiting the Mount was nice, but I didn’t miss it like I used to. There was talk of graduation, mere months away, and plans after graduation, and I realized that by May, I’d be a year post-grad. While everyone was preparing for Commencement and their post-grad year, what had I accomplished?

So much. Teaching my students, and creating lessons, and building my own classroom. Even though I practically lived in my winter coat, I looked forward to going to school. Realizing this also made me realize that while it was okay to have nostalgia and visit the Mount, I also was so lucky to have made such success this year.

Two weeks ago, azaleas and wildflowers scattered against the green backdrop of campus. I was at the Mount for Divine Mercy Sunday Mass and a celebration with friends. The Mount was alive with students, and graduation was a few short weeks down the road. I could feel the excitement in the air, but it wasn’t mine. And that was okay. I felt happy for my friends, for the Class of 2025 graduates, and I was thrilled for their futures.

This past year was filled plenty of new journeys with many ups and downs. As I spent month after month teaching, I also (and unexpectedly) visited the Mount in each season of the year, watching from afar how the summers and falls and winters and springs shape this campus again and again, so many times you’d think it was magic. I am thankful to have come back, but I am also grateful for what I have in the present moment, and what lies ahead. This month we return to the season of summer, and another cycle will continue, over and over. Will I always feel nostalgic over the passing seasons at Mount St. Mary’s? Will I always miss the church bells, the stone buildings, the rolling green fields?

As I continue to make news memories at new places, with old and new friends, and as years of teaching continue to turn like chapters in a book, I will still, forever and always, return. Maybe not every season, but perhaps during my favorite one. After all, the Mount never looked better with pinkish-white blossoms budding on the trees.

Read other articles by Claire Doll