Positioning himself neatly between Aristotle and Arendt, my professor took his place at the pulpit — flanked by history itself — and delivered his sermon to unusually attentive ears. It was the first day of the new quarter, and we sat still, guarded and watchful of this new presence. The lecture began so scripted and routine, so obviously practiced, that I turned around half-expecting to find a teleprompter buried among the students, guiding his every word and pause for reflection. When all was said and done, he excused us early, disclaiming with a smile that this would be the only time.

Presiding over my second class was a matter-of-fact, presumably Scandinavian woman brandishing a ruler with nothing to measure. She informed us that we would have to endure a part-time job’s worth of homework to do sufficiently well in the class, a feat made commonplace by her offhandedness.

These instances, multiplied by thousands, are glimpses into a week of firsts. Meeting our new professors and teachers, we are hyperaware of any clue alluding to their leniency. Our eyes and ears are searching for signs that no syllabus could ever tell us. In moments like these, it’s all about reading between the lines.

Fearful and wary though we may be, our circumstances are dwarfed by the unimaginable weight that must be gathering on the chest of our president-elect. Our absence may go unpunished or unnoticed, but we are one of many, cushioned in a somewhat forgiving setting.

We are not responsible for the lives of 300 million Americans, pacing for a war to end or a check to arrive in the mail.

The road ahead is a gloomy one indeed, one lined with hurdles stretching off into the horizon, each a priority on its own little patch of asphalt. There’s the economy, obviously, which must be dealt with immediately at least for the sake of not having to read about it in the papers every day. Just recently, the president-elect’s plan, which includes $300 billion in tax cuts, was revealed in more detail to the public, a nod to critics and those of us with bated breath alike.

Next, you have another peak in the cyclical violence surrounding Israel and Palestine. The two-state solution, which is widely viewed as the best route to pursue, has suffered from a lack of sticks and too many carrots, especially on America’s part. Growing up with a Jewish father, I’ve heard my fair share of pro-Israel sentiments, the staple of American politics. But surely there must be some common ground. Literally, of course, but figuratively too.

Then you have immigration reform, which Obama has promised to tackle in his first year of office. Russia, too, must be dealt with. Their newfound adventurism and desire to unravel our plans for a missile shield in Eastern Europe will surely test the incoming president’s diplomatic skills. Iran, meanwhile, is on the cusp of possessing a nuclear weapon and our infrastructure is crumbling under the weight of a growing population. Not to mention the fact that we are waging two wars.

To say the least, it’s going to be a long eight years.

Riding in the car the other day, I turned to my mom and asked, out of the blue, “Does it even feel like we have a president right now?” And my mom, an infinitely honest woman, paused and then laughed to herself. “No,” she said, “I guess not.”

America is holding its breath.

We are on what seems, in our narrow sliver of history, a fissure in time — a great transition of eras — and everyone is waiting. Come inauguration, however, we can collectively exhale and welcome in our new president. Until then, it’s political limbo for us, a halfway point between inaction and resolution. Economy in shambles? Barack has a plan. Israel and Palestine? We’ll have to wait and see.

It was bizarre to sit there in our car, imagining our country run by nothing more than a headless bureaucracy, responding to international crisis with only the most reflexive motions. Calling the administration a “lame duck,” it seemed, was a vast understatement. Even now, I find myself writing in past tense.

Reach columnist Eric Shellan at opinion@dailyuw.com.