After this week, there will be two weeks left in this semester, and for me, my last semester with some of my favorite professors. Fittingly, with Thanksgiving right around the corner, I have decided to dedicate this column to my English professors and how thankful I am for all of them.
I’ve said this once and I’ll say it again, but being an English major is like going from one book club to another. And this isn’t an attack whatsoever because it’s actually what I love about English literature.
All of the professors I’ve had so far (give or take a few) have been so passionate in their areas of study that I have never felt disappointed or bored by a course. Because in the end, I’m celebrating the works of amazing authors and poets with people who bring new perspectives, ideas, and opinions to the table that continually keep me engaged.
I’m surrounded by bookworms. I’m in a library. I feel at home. And I have always felt that way about going to English class since I was in middle school (except for you Ms. Behling, fuck you), now it’s like that every day.
English literature has always humbled me and pushed me to be a better reader and writer. Each course I have taken has challenged me beyond my limits and the courses I haven’t taken are a challenge in and of itself that I’m ready to take on.
My passion and innate love for reading and writing have solely been influenced by the brilliant professors I’ve had before me. After all, I believe that the educational experience is dependent on the teacher. It is because of those teachers that I want to inspire the generations after me and impact them in a way that not only challenges them but encourages them to celebrate what they love. If that’s the way I can give back to my community and make an impact then so be it.