AIDEN PIERRE-LOUIS
In second grade, I had a teacher I disliked; we’ll call her Ms. Blue. Ms. Blue and I were like oil and water. 
She thought it was brilliant to restrict us to one bathroom trip per day, excluding lunchtime. Additionally, if a student had the misfortune of needing to go after lunch, they’d have to wait until dismissal. 
When students finished their books early during reading time, she usually let them take a nap at their desks. When I finished mine early, she told me to read another. When I asked to nap instead, she threatened to call home. To a 7-year-old, that was equivalent to jail time, so I walked over to the bookshelf real quick. After that incident, I asked myself, “How could I possibly escape the clutches of this vile taskmaster?” 
Within a day, my mother told me we were moving to a suburb outside of New York City. Although I could bid adieu to Ms. Blue after two harrowing months, I didn’t want to leave my friends and life behind in the city. 
The next school day, Ms. Blue transformed into a grinning Cheshire cat. Until my departure, she would rub it in my face, talking about how much she’d miss me like it was the countdown to Christmas. 
When I started at my new school, I anticipated another drill sergeant-esque teacher. But, to my surprise, I met Mrs. Stacy, a warm-hearted teacher with whom I instantly clicked. Mrs. Stacy had no crazy bathroom limits, and naps after reading were integrated into the class schedule. 
By the end of the year, she even said that I was one of the best-behaved kids in the class. Maybe I’ll never figure out why Ms. Blue had it out for me, but I can say that new beginnings bring positive change. 

GAIL DiSABATINO 
As I was growing up, I loved the idea of new beginnings, especially the start of a new school year. 
I would anticipate the new beginning with great wonder about what was going to happen and always enjoyed the planning that came with a fresh start. 
Moving to a new town and job has always been exciting– an opportunity to do things better than the last time. 
Over the years, I have experienced new beginnings when I wasn’t planning on them, especially in the loss of loved ones. Certainly, this kind of new beginning is not as uplifting as the ones I planned for. 
However, I have always found purpose and growth, even when sad beginnings have been thrust upon me. 
I now realize that I have a new beginning daily! 
I don’t wait until Jan. 1 to make resolutions; I make them every day because each morning allows me to start fresh. I launch each day with a cup of coffee and a devotional to inspire and guide me. 
I lay my head on my pillow each night, contemplating what I am grateful for and where I could have been a better version of myself. 
This simple yet powerful routine allows me to wake up ready for my next new beginning. I still enjoy the excitement of the big new kick-offs, like starting to work here at SLU last August-new colleagues to work with, new students to get to know, new traditions to experience, and new opportunities to make a difference. 
And yet, knowing that I get a new beginning EVERY DAY, I feel more like taking risks, trying something different, pushing myself, offering and asking for forgiveness, and showing gratitude for the blessings of that day. Each day is a new beginning, bringing fresh opportunities, hope and a chance to be better. 

JASON BERGERON 
In my mind, new beginnings are moments in one’s life that are steps in a new direction, permanently. 
Steps into the unknown are often quite scary, and I would say we live in a world where change is often feared. 
Yet, it is necessary, and more so, it is inevitable. 
Personally, I aim to live my life under the realization that anything and everything can and most likely will change in an instant. 
I materialize this mindset in a few ways, such as always taking advantage of a sunny day or putting my phone down at the table and taking advantage of a conversation over a meal. 
Having transferred to St. Lawrence University, I had the unique experience of having a new beginning in college twice. 
Forcing this new beginning was one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life. 
When my great great uncle passed away a few years ago, I realized that I never spent much quality time with him, always never really listening to him speak. 
These situations are different but related in the sense of wasted time and regrets that I will carry for the rest of my life. Time always moves forward; you can’t ever get it back, and you never know when it has run out. 
It is and forever will be the single most valuable commodity in the entire world. 
Whether you are rich or poor, we all share our time here. That is why it is so essential to take advantage of our time we have together. 
Taking steps into a new beginning can be uncomfortable, but so far in my life, they have allowed me to take advantage of time and find beauty in this confusingly giant world that we inhabit. 

LIZ CRAIG 
I have a complicated relationship with new beginnings. Our relationship is not linear. 
New beginnings bring abundant possibilities, yielding glimmers of hope, growth and autonomy. A new beginning yields the opportunity to rid yourself of the things you hate most, to beckon things you aspire to be and to change the way you’re perceived entirely. A new beginning is something to step into with undying optimism and naivety. A new beginning, though, also demands the neglect of something you’ve previously loved; there demands a hard goodbye, or a “see you later,” knowing you will never actually see them later. 
Then, the excitement of the new beginning turns to fear. I like to believe that I should flee the East Coast, a place I’ve called home for 21 years, and live independently of anything I’ve ever known. A new beginning across the country couldn’t be so bad, but a creeping fear lies in the back of my head, where failure and success often coexist, and suddenly, a new beginning is a place of dark and twisty and no longer hope and optimism. 
The fear suddenly shifts to curiosity, and as I walk across St. Lawrence’s campus, I wonder who I’ll never see again, who will serve as the next president, and who will force their kids to follow in their footsteps and become third-generation Larrys. Then, curiosity turns to gratitude. Gratitude for the hardest four years, for the most important lessons, for the gift of giving people grace, and for the notion of understanding. 
Now, the gratitude turns to sorrow, and we wrap up the final semester in the square mile that has held me and my closest friends for four years, fostering bonds with my future bridesmaids, filling me with the knowledge that will carry me to grad school, with perspective, and so many other intangibles. 
Cheers to the rollercoaster of new beginnings, and LinkedIn networks to grow. 

PATRICK CHASE 
When the hard ground begins to thaw, and the light of the sun carries with it more energy, the ground will begin to break. Dark shoots will break through the hard ground and unfurl in bright green ribbons. 
But are these ferns beginning again? Is it a new beginning for them, a blank slate, a fresh start? Or, are we simply witnessing the same process that has been repeated for years, each step being identical to the last? In many ways, I think this reflects us as people. We are fascinated by the idea of new beginnings. And yet, we seem to never be able to escape the patterns of the past. It calls into question if we are truly capable of beginning new, of starting over. 
We often live our lives in anticipation of new beginnings, of what they allow us to do. Our obsession with the apocalypse and collapse of society is proof of this. We all share a fantasy of suddenly being free of everything and left with only our desire to live as we truly want. But you can keep dreaming; we all can because it will never happen. 
I mean, I think don’t hold me to it, but you know what I mean. Instead, if you want to change things in your life, there is only one way: through your own actions. Change starts with you, and as much as that sounds like an Obama campaign slogan, it’s true. So find some discipline, delete TikTok, and make the change. It doesn’t have to be overnight; work at it slowly. 
But if you’re consistent, you’ll see results; take it from me. I have a bad habit of cooking a frozen pizza, and when it comes out wrong, throwing it at the ceiling and leaving, but yesterday, when this happened to me (as it frequently does), I threw it in the trash instead of screaming and throwing it on the ground and stomping it. 
That, my friends, is progress. Heck, you might even call that properly disposed of pizza a new beginning.