Well, the semester has been officially over for a few days now. I find myself relieved that the work is done and I can now take a break, some time to myself to catch up on some reading, watch the movies I missed while I was engrossed in my responsibilities to my students, and quite simply to watch some TV & just veg.
Inundated by this relief as I am, I also find myself saddened beyond belief. Each semester brings into by life a new wave of students who, once the semester is over, are pulled back into the world like a receding tide. This transition is always difficult for me, to meet so many fascinating people, most of whom I will never see or hear from again. Whatever grades they received in this class, whatever effort they put forth, for a moment in time, they were a part of my life; in fact, they were my life as I do little else besides “work.” So many people who have touched my life and changed me in some way, whether it be minute or profound. I will never be the same.
Every moment, I’m thinking how I could have served them better, inspired them more, infused them with my own passion for language and for learning. More than anything I want them to know that education does not have to be passionless, that writing does not have to be passionless. In fact, writing has, since its existence, been the primary medium for expressing the deepest passions of human experience: love, sex, war, survival, freedom.
It breaks my heart to see the lack of interest so many students exhibit in the conditions of their existence. I want them to question everything, but instead they simply accept things the way they are. I overhear their frustrations with course requirements, but most never demand to know why they have to take gen ed courses. I listen to their mumbled grumbles about assignments, but most never approach the instructor to inquire about the purpose of the homework. Granted, many instructors, administrators, and other people in positions of power get pissed when confronted with such questions, but—damn it—it’s my students’ right to know. The truth of the matter is that those who respond to such questioning with anger or indignation very likely don’t have an answer other than “because I said so,” which is nothing less than unacceptable and offensive.
I’m not suggesting that everything is worth rebelling against, but don’t be pushed around by unknown forces. Find the truth. And if that truth is objectionable, do something about it. It’s true—you might fail. But at least you can say you didn’t sit back and do nothing. How many times can I say it? You have one of the greatest powers on earth at your disposal, but like any weapon, you must learn to use it.
Language is not an arbitrary college requirement. It’s a weapon, a powerful weapon., one you can use to protect or destroy. I hope you will protect your rights; I hope you will protect yourself; I hope you will protect your loved ones. And I hope you will destroy unjust rules and regulations that stand in the way of your success; I hope you will destroy the forces intent on keeping you from achieving your goals and living your dreams.
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