There is a world of smells inside a college of applied technology.

Our woodshop smells rather pleasantly of sawdust, though sometimes—like when I don’t hold the angle-grinder properly—it reeks of charred Southern pine.

In the dental technology lab, where we are constructing new cabinet doors, there is a chemical scent that I suspect is from the sanding of false teeth.

The machine shop emits a badass medley of hot steel and industrial lubricant.

Meanwhile, in the corridor outside the cosmetology program, ammonia lingers like the ghost of a home perm my mom gave me in 1986.

All in all, it’s a dizzying bouquet of opportunity and possibility, with subtle notes of roads-not-taken.

Incidentally, as a student at the college of applied technology, I can get my hair cut in the cosmetology classroom for $2. That doesn’t stink.