It seems the roller coaster ride of the final semester in college saves its fastest loops and largest dips for the homestretch. In the past week, I've gone from considering grad school to forgetting about it, considering a second degree to forgetting about it, and from thinking that loan payments would be manageable to wanting to "ring some necks" in the financial aid office (I use that figurative phrase figuratively! It is meant to exhibit my frustration with the attitudes I encountered while fulfilling a graduation requirement today and nothing more--italics are meant only for emphasis, not for sarcasm.)
Our university has decided that exit counseling (an online service through studentloans.gov) should no longer be a requirement that is completed online at the student's convenience. Instead, the graduating seniors are required to schedule an appointment with the Financial Aid office to complete the online counseling with an aid officer literally looking over their shoulders. "It's an attempt to educate graduates and prevent them for defaulting on their loans," I was told when I got enough nerve to ask why they had changed their policy regarding this counseling during my appointment this past Monday. A.K.A.? They feel the need to babysit upcoming graduates, and while I don't mind being helped or informed, there's something seriously insulting about having someone sit behind me as I read information about loans and wait impatiently for me to finish the counseling-- she even pointed out where answers were in the text when I was taking "too long" to read the information. I don't do well with anything when I have someone over my shoulder- reading, writing, school work, anything. Add to this the fact that she required me to sign up for the loan payment that would enable me to repay the loans the quickest but also had the highest payment per month (over $300/month, how many new graduates can afford that and still afford basic essentials??) and I think it's fair to say I was a little more than annoyed during this appointment. I repeatedly scoffed about amounts, directly addressed her side comments about my change of major and my reluctance to enter the workforce with an English: Creative Writing degree, and at the end had to bite my tongue to stop the response to her, "Congratulations on completing your degree!!" from making it past my lips.
After I left the office, I had to distract myself in order to not "fly off the handle"as Galinda says to Elphie in the musical WICKED. That meant a lot of walking, ranting, cussing, and even crying. Watching the roommates play video games where they could shoot things helped a little, too. I also discovered that my recently hatched plan to return for a second Bachelor's in Environmental Science was- to use the expression of my Aquatics professor- "squelched" because the course/credit requirements required that I return to school for a minimum of two years (not one year like I initially thought) and because I was told during my frustrating financial aid meeting that the only "aid" I would recieve would be additional loans.........AND THIS WAS ONLY MONDAY.
This week was also filled to the brim with academic assignments (we have officially hit the moment when professors start screaming, "Oh, shit! I don't have enough grades in the book!! Assign alllllll the homework!!!!!!" I'd just barely complete one assignment on time before rushing off to scribble out another paper, another research assignment, a Spanish exercise, and most important of all, my senior Capstone project- which I will present in just over two weeks in order to graduate in December. It's been an absolute mess trying to complete two versions of this Capstone (required for the English Department as well as the Honors Program), but as of Wednesday night, I was given the very solid deadline of next Thursday.... by next Thursday, the Honors version of my Capstone must be completed. So, by next Thursday, for better or worse, the stupid thing will be done.
My project consists of three original Appalachian short stories (one with plans to be expanded into a novella) and a reflective paper on the creative writing process. I'm interested to see how my chaotic trips to various settings, continual playing of iTunes playlists in the background while writing, and recent personal events influence this project. This weekend is my last chance to knock this thing out of the park, and it's only the fact that I'm writing about the place I love, my West Virginia, that keeps me from becoming so overwhelmed I can no longer function.
Though this coming next week is the homestretch for my Senior Capstone, it certainly isn't the end of my remaining classes, all of which have their own demands. But hey, that's what Thanksgiving Break is for right? .......right????....... I can promise that my break will include no "academic break" other than on Thursday, when I'll spend the day at my aunt and uncle's farm in Seneca Rocks, eating amazing food, being surrounded by wonderful people, and relaxing in the beautiful mountains. Hopefully being back home will remind me why I chose Appalachian fiction at my Senior Capstone-- because I love my small town and her natural beauty.
But before I begin this week-long cram session before the last two weeks of my semester, I am planning to have some fun in the form of attending a production of the musical RENT with some amazing friends. This semester would have been impossible to get through without them- they've handled the breakdowns, the tears, the terrifying confessions, and the rants and still managed to keep me going. So next Friday, after the Capstone has been turned in, and I've loaded up my car for Thanksgiving break, I'm taking a night to myself and my friends before coming home and kicking my mile-long homework list in the butt. And it will be awesome. :)
Friday, November 15, 2013
Monday, November 4, 2013
You Are Loved
Last Friday was one of the hardest days I've experienced in my 4 1/2 years as a Shepherd Student.
It seems that this year was determined to be riddled with hardships, and it certainly has been.... for many people. This blog is not going to be me whining and complaining about how difficult life has been, but rather it will be about the strength I've drawn from these unfortunate events.
Late last Thursday night Shepherd lost a very talented, bright, and kind young man. The news reached most of the students in the English Department on Friday (the student was an English minor, set to graduate with me in December, and had been a student in a great number of my literature classes- including one this semester) and the atmosphere around Knutti Hall, our building, was one of reverent silence. When I arrived on campus shortly after seeing the student-wide email announcing that counseling services would be available for those affected by this loss, the change in the normally casually-friendly atmosphere was immediately evident. I met a friend at the street corner, and the first words out of his mouth were, "Did you check your email?" I nodded yes and immediately my vision blurred with tears.
That was my day-- fighting tears everywhere I went-- until my American Literature class, the one I shared with that young man. We slowly filed into the room, hardly anyone speaking and then only in whispers, no laughter (of which he almost always took part in before class started). We couldn't look at each other. When our professor came into the room, what little noise there was died, save the people that kept sniffling, just trying to breathe.
What our professor said to us during that nearly unbearable class on that most awful day made me realize that I know I made the right choice in attending a small school like Shepherd University. She told us about the counseling services, qualified her involvement by saying that she was not a counselor (which I found extremely professional and admirable), and then proceeded to tell us how much she and the other professors cared about each and every one of us. "You are loved," she said. She had barely made it three sentences in before the majority of us could no longer fight the tears. We sat in silence, listening to her talk about how our friend was a talented man, a compassionate man. "This sucks." This was the thing she said to us that really stuck in my mind. It's unbelievably simple, but it certainly wasn't an understatement. The simplicity of this sentence just symbolized the fact that we could not alter what had happened, that we were helpless against this tragedy. "Just keep doing what you're doing: ask for help, lean on each other, and know that you are loved." There was no fluff that came from her, and as she allowed us to say what we needed to (many in our class knew him quite well), I felt a great rush of admiration and thankfulness for her actions. A few students talked about his influence and his personality, one even told the perfect anecdote about our friend trying toaster strudels for the first time.
In short, we leaned upon one another and eventually made it to the point where we had temporarily stopped the tears (the toaster strudel story got many laughs because it described our friend's delightful character so perfectly). The strength we drew from one another helped me greatly, though it didn't keep me from going back to the dorm after class and sleeping for multiple hours. It is unfortunate that it takes a tragedy to bring people together, but there is something incredible about the way we rally for one another in times of hardship. This semester has consisted of many heartbreaks: the forever loss of not one, but two friends; the train wreck back home where a man died; more recently at home a house fire that killed four children and their father; a different fire that altered a relative's life permanently (even if his wife makes it through her injuries). After learning of the loss at Shepherd, I was ready to scream into the sky, "WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?!?!?!?! Enough is enough," as I walked back across campus to my dorm after that emotionally draining class. When I entered the common room, my roommate had the news channel on, covering the BREAKING NEWS story of the shooting in the international airport. I'm pretty sure at that point I did shout something to the effect of enough is enough before I crawled into my bed.
Losing my resolve again even after the time in our literature class, I made it to the woods Sunday with another friend. We spent the morning hiking, jumping from rock to rock, and criss-crossing the creek by way of fallen logs. Something about being in nature, where I feel most like a "species" rather than a special type of non-animal, humbles me and gives me comfort. Thoreau, in Walden, said it well when he spoke of the ponds: "Talk of heaven! ye disgrace earth." I ignored any religious thoughts as I drank in the chilly air, took copious amounts of photos, and allowed my eyes to rove continuously over the trees, the leaves, the moss covered rocks, the shallow creek. I felt myself being purified from the tragedies of the last three months. This time, the strength I feel, the drive to pick up life and carry on with what I want to accomplish, is sticking. And when I stop to think about my friend, thinking of his laughter in class and how he will never be able to laugh like that again, I hear my professor's caring tone. "You are loved."
You are loved. Despite how things feel, how desperate we may get or how stressed out we may become, we are still loved, and we have people to lean on through the hard times. As I said the day we found out about our friend, "We are strong, and we will make it through this."
It seems that this year was determined to be riddled with hardships, and it certainly has been.... for many people. This blog is not going to be me whining and complaining about how difficult life has been, but rather it will be about the strength I've drawn from these unfortunate events.
Late last Thursday night Shepherd lost a very talented, bright, and kind young man. The news reached most of the students in the English Department on Friday (the student was an English minor, set to graduate with me in December, and had been a student in a great number of my literature classes- including one this semester) and the atmosphere around Knutti Hall, our building, was one of reverent silence. When I arrived on campus shortly after seeing the student-wide email announcing that counseling services would be available for those affected by this loss, the change in the normally casually-friendly atmosphere was immediately evident. I met a friend at the street corner, and the first words out of his mouth were, "Did you check your email?" I nodded yes and immediately my vision blurred with tears.
That was my day-- fighting tears everywhere I went-- until my American Literature class, the one I shared with that young man. We slowly filed into the room, hardly anyone speaking and then only in whispers, no laughter (of which he almost always took part in before class started). We couldn't look at each other. When our professor came into the room, what little noise there was died, save the people that kept sniffling, just trying to breathe.
What our professor said to us during that nearly unbearable class on that most awful day made me realize that I know I made the right choice in attending a small school like Shepherd University. She told us about the counseling services, qualified her involvement by saying that she was not a counselor (which I found extremely professional and admirable), and then proceeded to tell us how much she and the other professors cared about each and every one of us. "You are loved," she said. She had barely made it three sentences in before the majority of us could no longer fight the tears. We sat in silence, listening to her talk about how our friend was a talented man, a compassionate man. "This sucks." This was the thing she said to us that really stuck in my mind. It's unbelievably simple, but it certainly wasn't an understatement. The simplicity of this sentence just symbolized the fact that we could not alter what had happened, that we were helpless against this tragedy. "Just keep doing what you're doing: ask for help, lean on each other, and know that you are loved." There was no fluff that came from her, and as she allowed us to say what we needed to (many in our class knew him quite well), I felt a great rush of admiration and thankfulness for her actions. A few students talked about his influence and his personality, one even told the perfect anecdote about our friend trying toaster strudels for the first time.
In short, we leaned upon one another and eventually made it to the point where we had temporarily stopped the tears (the toaster strudel story got many laughs because it described our friend's delightful character so perfectly). The strength we drew from one another helped me greatly, though it didn't keep me from going back to the dorm after class and sleeping for multiple hours. It is unfortunate that it takes a tragedy to bring people together, but there is something incredible about the way we rally for one another in times of hardship. This semester has consisted of many heartbreaks: the forever loss of not one, but two friends; the train wreck back home where a man died; more recently at home a house fire that killed four children and their father; a different fire that altered a relative's life permanently (even if his wife makes it through her injuries). After learning of the loss at Shepherd, I was ready to scream into the sky, "WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?!?!?!?! Enough is enough," as I walked back across campus to my dorm after that emotionally draining class. When I entered the common room, my roommate had the news channel on, covering the BREAKING NEWS story of the shooting in the international airport. I'm pretty sure at that point I did shout something to the effect of enough is enough before I crawled into my bed.
Losing my resolve again even after the time in our literature class, I made it to the woods Sunday with another friend. We spent the morning hiking, jumping from rock to rock, and criss-crossing the creek by way of fallen logs. Something about being in nature, where I feel most like a "species" rather than a special type of non-animal, humbles me and gives me comfort. Thoreau, in Walden, said it well when he spoke of the ponds: "Talk of heaven! ye disgrace earth." I ignored any religious thoughts as I drank in the chilly air, took copious amounts of photos, and allowed my eyes to rove continuously over the trees, the leaves, the moss covered rocks, the shallow creek. I felt myself being purified from the tragedies of the last three months. This time, the strength I feel, the drive to pick up life and carry on with what I want to accomplish, is sticking. And when I stop to think about my friend, thinking of his laughter in class and how he will never be able to laugh like that again, I hear my professor's caring tone. "You are loved."
You are loved. Despite how things feel, how desperate we may get or how stressed out we may become, we are still loved, and we have people to lean on through the hard times. As I said the day we found out about our friend, "We are strong, and we will make it through this."
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