Nearing the end of 17 years of education, the last four years spent in college have been some of the most wearisome and rewarding.

The thought of finally washing my hands of school is is a most frightening and exhilarating sensation.

There are things I will miss dearly and things that if I never have to do again, it’ll be too soon.

I will not miss the sudden rush of terror at the announcement of a pop quiz, or the dull ache in my stomach when I realize a mistake I made on a test that I just turned in.

I won’t miss professors that think they’re too lofty to sympathize or connect with their students.

I won’t miss the insufferable know-it-all classmates who, whenever they open their mouths, prove how little they understand.

I will not miss feeling like a zombie after studying for hours on end, missing out on fun because I’m up to my eyeballs in assignments, or, most of all, my hour-plus commute, which could be reduced to 30 minutes were it not for the bedevilment of my life — the Kennedy Bridge.

However, the sufferings I’ve endured at the hands of my education pale in comparison to the people and experiences that have made it all worthwhile.

There have been professors like Jim St. Clair, professor of journalism, whose patience and understanding make him deserving of canonization.

There have been professors dedicated to providing students with real-life experience, like Ron Allman, associate professor of journalism.

These professors have toughened my skin and sharpened my skills, so I feel like I can kick tail and take names once this is all over.

There have been professors I’ve started out hating, and ended up loving.

There have been professors who have opened my mind to new ways of thinking, that have been delightfully deranged and that make me smile every time I think about them.

These tireless souls are the true servants and leaders of our campus. As a student body we would be bettered for showing them how much they mean to us, and that we couldn’t do this without them.

There have also been my peers — the good, the bad and the ugly.

Many of them have made my college experience something I could possibly look fondly on — after a few months of rest and recuperation.

One of the best things I’ve learned through college is you don’t have to agree with someone to thoroughly enjoy their company.

One of the biggest shockers on entering a university is rapidly realizing that not everyone agrees with you.

Unfortunately, many students let that keep them from making friends, and they’ve missed out on so much.

If you limit yourself to associating only with people who are your carbon philosophical, political and lifestyle copy, life becomes a little more boring, and we all know that shouldn’t be encouraged.

So, there have been the cherished friends in every capacity — the yin to my yang — the last-second lifesavers who’ve got my back before a test, the pranksters, the fellow sufferers, the playful antagonists and the one-semester-wonders that casually come into my life and make it a little brighter before we go our separate ways.

The question, however, is after all of this, what happens now? With all of this build-up, I feel like a magician’s lovely assistant as the climax of the act approaches.

With the grand finale of my college career nearly upon me, my knees begin to shake ever so slightly, and my palms moisten as I step forward on the stage.

Though I’ve prepared and practiced for this, the thought of it all coming to that pivotal moment makes my head feel light.

Will I remember what I’ve rehearsed, what I’ve prepared for, what others have taught me so I can pull this off?

Still, I hold my head high, hit my mark and strike my pose. The moment arrives — time to prove that it’s all sunk in.

The prestige, the grand reveal, for all the world to see and be the judge of its value, and every eye is on me waiting to succeed or fail.

It doesn’t have to be real for them to be convinced, and if I can dazzle them with enough hocus-pocus, it will all be worth it.

With any luck, I won’t just disappear.

—30—

By AMY FAULHABER
Editor
amfaulha@ius.edu