Freshman Miraynda Castro was reminded during her first week at Northern Illinois University that she didn’t begin her college career at just any campus.

Castro’s philosophy teacher asked students for a show of hands: Did they want the classroom door locked or left open? The vote was for open, Castro recalled, so classmates could get in if they were late.

“I think it’s a good question to ask from now on … obviously I’d feel safer if it was closed because nobody could get in,” said Castro, 18, of Machesney Park.

Almost seven months after former student Steven Kazmierczak burst through an unlocked door at Cole Hall and fatally wounded five students before killing himself, campus life is beginning to return to normal. But reminders, fears and anxieties linger, even for those who were not directly affected by the Valentine’s Day tragedy.

“Some students … were apprehensive about coming back,” said Scott Peska, director of the university’s new Office of Support and Advocacy, started in April in response to the shootings to help students, faculty and staff deal with the tragedy.

Some came to campus early to see their classrooms and make sure they would feel comfortable. Some told about having difficulty with Fourth of July fireworks celebrations, while others who were fine during the summer suddenly began having trouble sleeping or experiencing nightmares.

There are few physical signs of the tragedy on campus.

From the outside, Cole Hall looks like any other building except for small bunches of dried purple flowers hanging on door handles. Students, backpacks bouncing as they talk on cells phones, walk past locked doors and windows covered with signs that say “Forward, Together, Forward,” the motto the university adopted after the shootings.

But across campus, NIU employee relations director Deborah Haliczer says, there is “a low-grade fear.”

Kristen Myers, the Sociology Department’s graduate director, has changed her teaching demeanor. She now allows cell phones and wishes there was a flashing light in every classroom so professors could be alerted to threats.

“I told the students, no erratic behavior allowed,” said Myers, who at different times had taught Kazmierczak and one of the students he killed, 19-year-old sophomore Ryanne Mace.

“But you know, Steven Kazmierczak never made anybody feel weird,” she says. “On an open campus there’s only so much you can do. You either do this job or you don’t.”

Castro, who was still in high school when cold and fear gripped the NIU campus on Feb. 14, says she chose the university before the shootings and stuck with her decision afterward.

“I feel they have more safety precautions,” said Castro, clad in a white T-shirt adorned with a sparkly silver “NIU.” ”My mom freaks out about it. She just worries that it happened before, like any mom she’s nervous.”

Castro’s mother, Vikki Nalevac, said having her youngest daughter go away to college was hard enough without the worry of violence, and she tried in vain to get Castro to change her mind about going to NIU.

“I’m worried about her just walking to the bus stop, to the buildings,” Nalevac says. “It’s one more worry that I really don’t want and I don’t need. I just have a knot in my stomach all the time.”

Across campus, though, students and faculty agree: Acts of senseless violence can happen anywhere. They can happen in a rural Amish schoolhouse in Pennsylvania, a Lane Bryant store in suburban Chicago or a Wendy’s restaurant in West Palm Beach, Fla.

“After it happened I knew security and police, they’d be ensuring our safety, watching us,” said freshman Christina Miller, 18, of Bolingbrook, who wants to major in biology. “I’ve been wanting to come here for a while. It’s a positive experience for me. I feel welcome here.”

Psychology senior Nancy Canas, 22, of Chicago, laughs with sorority girlfriends gathered at a table in the Holmes Student Center. But when the subject turns to the shootings, they grow quiet.

Their friend, Catalina Garcia, a 20-year-old from Cicero who wanted to be a teacher, was one of the victims.

Canas says several spots on campus, not just Cole Hall, upset Garcia’s friends and bring back memories.

“I knew where she lived,” Canas said. “In the student center, I knew where she sat. I try not to think about it, try to move forward with the year. That’s what all of us are trying to do.”