*Cue misleading title!* Sorry, guys. I just love shocking you. So I’m officially a senior in college. I technically was in the summer, but you never quite know your year in the summer. So yeah, I’m a senior…and I’m stressed the hell out. I knew English would be a challenge, but 27 books, 5 research papers, 2 blogs, 8 tests, and active participation seems to be a BIT much. I’ll make it, but this has really thrown my life into perspective. Do I *really* wanna be in school for another seven years after the two for my Master’s? I originally did, but now I’m realizing that there’s so much more I want to do. I want to be active in my community by volunteering, maybe at an animal shelter. I want to work for money reasons but also because this is the service I want to provide. I want to share my passion for English and its practical uses with students that may or may not go to college. So many ladies I went to high school with haven’t been able to continue on their college journey because of work or having a family or sickness. So I really want to make sure that my students have the knowledge, awareness, and skills to be critical persons and analyze situations when they come out of my class– and not make them wait and wonder for these skills until their last year of college, because many may not get there for countless legitimate reasons. It’s not fair to withhold information to force someone through a system that they can’t follow through with, either by their own choice or by forces of nature. Sure, I’d love them to read Lady Audley’s Secret or Heart of Darkness, eagerly awaiting the next chapter, and do a feminist or postcolonial reading afterwards. And I want to teach work like that, not just spitting back plot summaries. But I also want to make clear WHY we do readings of novels, and how novels can be problematic and change our perception about history and society.
BUT ANYWAYS. I got off track. So school isn’t the biggest deal to me now. I mean, of course I wanna try to get summa cum laude and get into Columbia and get “higher honors” (the middle rank of honors) for English, but I don’t wanna go to school forever anymore. Yeah, maybe a class here and there or a special certification or even another Master’s. But not now. I want to learn cake decorating and go to cooking classes and get married and volunteer and read what I want (when I want) outside sitting in some grass and learn how to play the electric violin. And I’m already getting there. I always felt like I had no identity outside of school, but I’m finally developing one. With all of the shows I go to, I’m a Broadway lottery boss and I can tell you (as an amateur) what distinguishes a Webber piece from others. I can say whether I think a show had good writing and bad execution or impressive choreography paired with lackluster plotting. I’m someone. I don’t have to surround everything around English or school or writing anymore. Sure, I can write a novel in the future, but my life doesn’t depend on it anymore. I can say confidently that I appreciate whodunnits for this reason or that, and tell you the differences between, say, The Westing Game, “Shear Madness,” and “Murder, She Wrote.” And yes, studying English has helped with this immensely. But I’m also comfortable with being one of the masses. I want to blend in. Like, yay for accomplishments, but I don’t need a huge trophy to tell me I did something good. Just getting a head bump from Jackie or a smile from the bus driver is enough. Or just that little warm feeling inside when I see a sunflower or take a walk or make progress with my headstand practice. I’m so much more than school. Not that school’s a bad thing, but I can’t define myself by it anymore. As I grow, I realize that I don’t need to be a one-trick pony anymore. And I can make mistakes. And I can read comic books and watch TV and read Dickinson and still be a good person. I don’t need to be smart all the time. Who cares about explaining something in big words if no one (even you) doesn’t understand the explanation? Yes, I’m dying to go to Columbia. But really? You wanna know a secret? I really don’t care that it’s an Ivy. Or even that it’s one of the best teaching schools. I mean, that stuff looks great, and I recognize my privilege for even being able to say something like that. But I just love it because of the integration between teaching and English. It’s practical. Also, I don’t care if things make sense anymore. Love doesn’t have to fit in with an equation. You don’t have to support everything your friends do. Be vulnerable and get yourself out there. Be sarcastic in class. Curse. Or don’t. DO WHAT YOU WANT.
I just want to end this post with saying a bit about who I’m dedicating this to/who I’m channeling, and who helped me get to this realization. This piece is dedicated to Professor Ruth Rodriguez, my Spanish professor that I had in my earlier college years and who, I recently found out, passed away a year ago soon after having her first child. Professor Rodriguez had such an intense and passionate love for life that made me so excited to go to class and made me want to teach something, somehow. At 8AM, she’d be pulling us out of our seats while blasting Marc Anthony and singing along, making us dance salsa with one another. She brought us cake way too often and ensured that our grades would reflect just how hard we tried in the class, regardless of test results. She brought out a passion in me that just made me want to educate and be just like her. I only found out about her passing on Wednesday, and I’m just so heartbroken. I started thinking about life and how Professor Rodriguez always encouraged us to just go out and see the world and love it and be part of it, and how we were learning language to further become citizens of the world and make new friends and see new things. And I want to make her proud. I want to get my students excited and share my passion with them, and I also want to be my own person and really be part of the world I’m living in. So this one is para ti, professora. Yo quiero pasar todos los días de mi vida bailando.
Writer from the Block 