On a recent Monday morning, I walked into math class. I greeted my tablemates

and plopped my backpack onto the floor. But before I could sit down I heard the teacher announce, “Alright class, don’t unpack yet. We’re switching seats today.”

A feeling of dread washed over me.

After getting to know my tablemates over the previous few weeks, it was time for our teacher to mix us around again. It was like reshuffling a deck of playing cards, each of us wondering where our teacher would deal us next. Except it was as if the card game never had a chance to finish. Each time I became acquainted with the other people at my table we would be shuffled again, before any long-lasting friendship had any time to develop.

The teacher listed off names for each table and I went over to my new spot. I sat down and mumbled “hello” to new people, whose faces I could barely recognize out of those of all my other classmates. It was time for the process of starting over to begin yet again. The first few days were met with awkward silence as I struggled to make conversation over graphs and functions. 

Eventually, I was able to make small talk over something like sports or how difficult the math homework was last night. All the while there was the looming feeling of knowing that I wouldn’t truly get to know the others in the short time our paths crossed in the journey of life. Teachers always push for their students to learn social skills and interact with new people but at this point I’ve lost all motivation. These were the people I’d pass in the grocery store someday and awkwardly avert my gaze, wondering whether I should have waved or if they would even remember me.

Slowly, we became better acquainted with each other, and each morning I warmly exchanged “good mornings” in stark contrast to the previous week’s mumbled greetings, which were made in an effort to appear friendly while also avoiding direct conversation.

I became more comfortable asking the others for help during lessons, and making conversation had grown easier. Even though I knew we would eventually be forced to move on, I did my best to become friends in the short amount of time we had together. 

The seating change was fast approaching and I knew our enjoyable, albeit bittersweet, time together was coming to an end. Friday passed as normal, but I knew in the back of my mind that it was almost time to move on.

When Monday morning arrived, I walked over to my table. I didn’t bother to put my backpack down as I waited for the teacher to finish listing off names for the new seating arrangements.

It was once again time for the buds of friendship to be snipped away before they had a chance to bloom. Maybe our paths will cross again sometime, if only in another few weeks.