Maggie LeClair began as a staff assistant in 1974 in the former Department of Communications. At the time, Florida Technological University (now 麻豆原创) was small enough she could gallop a horse she kept in a nearby stable down the wide grassy median of University Boulevard.

Both 麻豆原创鈥檚 campus and reputation have grown significantly since those early days, but there鈥檚 still enough of its original character for her to recognize.

鈥淭he singular goal of producing quality students remains the same,鈥� she says.

Her first shared office was tucked under the stairs in the Administration Building (before it was named after President Charles Millican). The tight quarters brought her in close contact with some of the other early university faculty leaders like Roger Handberg and Bob Bledsoe in the old Department of History and Political Science.

Construction of the first Colbourn Hall opened up space for the School of Communication, and it would serve as the backdrop for much of LeClair鈥檚 time at 麻豆原创. Her role as admin served as a catchall for multiple duties, from certifying graduations, to helping hire faculty and managing budgets. Unofficially she was also mom, student advisor and confidant.

鈥淚t鈥檚 clich茅 to say there was never a dull moment, but I was never bored,鈥� she says. 鈥淚t kept the cobwebs out of my brain.鈥�

For many years the university retained a small, informal atmosphere that led to frequent close encounters with leadership. Millican polled the community on their preferred bricks for future buildings with samples left outside a campus entrance. When the Gulf War started, the communication department gathered around the TV to witness the novelty of live battlefield reporting. 麻豆原创 President Steven Altman was walking by and had a spontaneous discussion with students about the changing face of media.

Those tight-knit relationships also carried LeClair and her colleagues through tough times. LeClair remembers all the tears after watching the Space Shuttle Challenger explosion in real time from a balcony of Colbourn Hall. It was also a comfort to be surrounded by friends on 9/11.

Working daily with students inspired her to become an advocate for their needs. LeClair is responsible for helping launch or inspiring multiple scholarships through on-campus and community connections like Town and Gown Council and the Women鈥檚 Club.

As the university has continued to stretch and grow, LeClair retained her personal touch. She remains in contact with many of the former communication students and their success is one of her proudest moments as she walks out the door.

While she鈥檒l miss the 麻豆原创 community, retirement opens new opportunities for international travel, visiting her granddaughter at Florida State University, announcing horse shows or simply sitting on the back porch bird watching.

鈥淚t will be nice to have that freedom,鈥� she says.

Of course, your attitude toward September might have actually been a complicated thing colored by how nice your previous year鈥檚 teacher was or whether you could afford the 鈥渞ight鈥� clothes or whether your best friend had moved away over the summer.

Still, most of us who teach have that sense of rising excitement at the end of each summer. If you are a parent sending your child off to school, you feel it, too. One of the privileges of school for both teachers and students is that we get to start over every year or every semester.

This clean slate leads us to believe that things can really change, that new things can happen鈥攁 helpful attitude in school and, really, throughout life. It鈥檚 productive and exciting to have a palpable sense of possibility.

When I first came to 麻豆原创 in 2003, I had a bit of difficulty with this because the weather didn鈥檛 seem right. In the other places where I had lived鈥攎ild Tennessee, harsh Minnesota, and in-between Pennsylvania鈥攖here had been those cool evenings to signal that fall was coming. In Florida, my circadian rhythms didn鈥檛 line up, and I found it challenging to believe that fall term was about to begin.

Instead, the scalding days of August seemed to stretch interminably into September and even October. I struggled to find the lift in energy levels that had always come with cooler weather and fall term for me.

Eventually, of course, I adjusted. I began to see the subtle changes in climate as Florida would move into fall. The difference between 90 degrees and 80 degrees is significant, after all.

Because of a visit to Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary near Naples, where I saw an array of exotic (to me) birds, including painted buntings and wood storks (the sublime to the homely), I became aware soon after coming to Florida of the stunning bird life. I also began to watch for the birds that fly back and forth over Florida, stopping along the way, in massive seasonal migrations. A variety of hawks, falcons, herons, warblers, and thrushes, as well as waterfowl, flow through the state every fall.

Soon, I also began to appreciate the startling colors of fall flowering plants, even if we don鈥檛 have the bold leaf-changes of more northern climes. All you have to do is come upon a massive spread of blooming blue clock vine or wildly orange Florida flame vine or the vibrant purple of beautyberries, and you come to understand that fall here has profuse colors of its own.

This fall, however, some of us at 麻豆原创 have a more blatant sign of possibility and change: the new Trevor Colbourn Hall, which some of us have already nicknamed 鈥淭revor.鈥� Over the summer, we cleaned out the old Colbourn Hall鈥攏amed after 麻豆原创鈥檚 second president鈥攁nd the first week of August we moved into the new, shiny one.

As with any change, there are some things we鈥檙e not crazy about and some things that will take a while to work out. But there鈥檚 also a little lift in most everyone鈥檚 spirits鈥攅xploring the building to find out where various offices and people ended up, helping each other with boxes and locks, chattering in the hallways like I haven鈥檛 heard in years.

Moving was a daunting task鈥攚e had 174 boxes for The Florida Review, and I brought home about 10 boxes of my own books because my new office is smaller than before. I ran into a senior colleague, drenched with the sweat of moving in August in Florida, when she was moving her personal items.

鈥淗ow much do you have?鈥� I asked.

鈥淎 lot,鈥� she said. 鈥淚鈥檝e been here a long time.鈥� But even though she looked exhausted, her eyes gleamed with excitement.

Probably none of our eyes will gleam with tears when the old Colbourn comes down. It is slated for destruction within a few weeks. I鈥檓 sure there was the same kind of excitement when it was new that we feel now, but it鈥檚 a building that has lived past its time. The university decided not even to try to rehab it, but just to tear it to the ground. Some of us contemplated having a take-down party to watch the wrecking balls do their work. But we decided we didn鈥檛 really want to breathe that dust.

I鈥檝e thought much in these days about an Idler essay written by Samuel Johnson in 1760, 鈥淗onour of the last.鈥� He notes that 鈥渋t is only by finding life changeable that we are reminded of its shortness.鈥� A friend of mine in graduate school gave me a copy of this essay when she was moving from one phase of life to another, and I always have loved it for how it encourages us to face mortality in our daily lives, what now we might call practicing mindfulness.

No doubt, we will pause and perhaps share a moment of nostalgia for a place so many of us spent so much time learning, teaching, meeting, debating, making friends, making enemies, writing, advising students, filling out paperwork, snatching a bit of lunch at our desks, and many other tasks that make up a faculty, staff, or student life. I have one particularly fond memory of how, in my first year, my then-husband-to-be had an office on the fourth floor and would come by to see me on the third. I remember him peeking around the door frame to see if I was busy or could take a minute to chat.

There are memories in the old building, and, just as we start each school year with some regret that summer is gone, we will have to say goodbye to the old Colbourn. I hope we鈥檒l all pause and reflect before we move on to the thrill of the new and fill our lives back up with possibility.

Awareness of death and awareness of life are, after all, inextricably entwined. The turning of the seasons always provides this reminder鈥攊f we notice.

Lisa Roney is an associate professor of English in 麻豆原创鈥檚 Department of English. She can be reached at Lisa.Roney@ucf.edu.

If the name Trevor Colbourn Hall sounds familiar, that鈥檚 because the 136,786-square foot structure is taking the place of聽Colbourn Hall, one of the oldest buildings on campus. That Colbourn Hall is set to be demolished, and the space it occupied will be landscaped until the pad is eventually repurposed for a new building yet to be determined.

The new Trevor Colbourn Hall has been in the works since May 1, 2017, and was created with themes of collaboration, flexibility, sustainability and beauty in mind.

鈥淲e鈥檝e started moving into some new concepts because teaching methods are changing. People are coming together differently. There鈥檚 a lot of active learning in our classrooms, so we looked at how we could make the space usable for that, and I think we succeeded in that goal,鈥� says Lee Kernek, associate vice president for Administration and Finance, where she oversees facilities planning and construction.

Here are 10 noteworthy features (along with some history of the building) that you should know about.

The building is named after former 麻豆原创 President Trevor Colbourn, who led the university from 1978-89. Some things we have to thank Colbourn for: 麻豆原创鈥檚 name (he changed it from Florida Technological University in 1978 when he took office), an honors program that eventually became the Burnett Honors College and the football team.

The new building houses 10 classrooms and 19 study rooms.

The mobile desks that inhabit these spaces can be left- or right-hand oriented and easily combine with other desks for group discussions or projects. Don鈥檛 need the writing surface? Simply rotate it to the back and the desk morphs into a chair.

Collaboration spaces exist specifically to encourage the next big idea. You鈥檒l find small yellow ottomans and black-and-gray-patterned seating along with 157 charging outlets in common spaces.

From tiles on the floor to wall color, you can spot if a space is meant for meeting up by the traces of blue that are incorporated throughout pathways in the building.

The building is flooded with natural light thanks to a concept that Kernek dubs 鈥淕LO (gained light officing).鈥� Through the strategic layout of 343 office spaces and the use of glass walls, sunlight can be seen by virtually every staff member, which ultimately leads to happier and healthier people. Studies have shown that individuals who are exposed to more daylight throughout their work day experience benefits such as better sleep quality, fewer headaches, less eye strain, decrease in drowsiness and overall greater productivity.

Even the artificial lighting seems natural. Sky domes in the ceiling are shaded light bulbs that mimic daylight.

The building is oriented to the sun鈥檚 movement, so all those windows that let in the sunshine don鈥檛 take a direct hit from the sun鈥檚 rays (and the heat that comes with it), meaning a more energy-efficient building.

Trevor Colbourn Hall is the second building on campus to use chilled-beam technology, which uses pipes of water to help cool down and maintain the overall temperature. The pipes help dry the air inside the building and push warmer air to the ceiling. Basically, this means you won鈥檛 be blasted with frigid air the minute you walk in the front door or sit underneath an unrelenting vent. 麻豆原创 Global was the first building on campus to use this eco-friendly system.

The building鈥檚 steel roof was designed to be fitted with solar panels. Although they aren鈥檛 fixed to the roof now, solar panels, like the ones near Garage B (pictured above), can be an easy addition in the future as 麻豆原创 works toward its promise to become a climate-neutral campus by 2050.