Thursday, January 22, 2015

A light at the end of the tunnel...



Looking down at the syllabus (the final one of my college career) I only think one thing.

Well shit.
 
What have I gotten myself in to? No, my classmates are not under 20; we are all adults in fact. Most of us are working for a living. We have families and lives beyond the dorms and sororities. But at that moment, staring down at the assignments, the time frames and everything in between, including those dates that are most important it all seems so overwhelming.

This is the beginning of my final semester of college. I suppose we all feel this way when we get to the end. The feeling that there is so much to do (papers, projects and several visual aides to be made). And not enough time to do it in. We are all burned out. We just want to be done with things.  Yes it may be 16 weeks until graduation, but they couldn’t feel farther away if you were to ask us.

Or not far enough away in some cases.

I try to take those deep breathes the professor in class #2 of the evening is talking about. I try to focus on other things. Like the fact the next time I am in Disney World, I will be done completely. I am focusing on Logan’s birthday and how excited he is. I focus on the fact the snow is coming this weekend. Anything to keep my mind (as she says) from going completely bonkers.
None of these work. 

 I listen to others around me, finally able to breathe when I realize I am not alone in my thoughts. The handouts are all overwhelming.  We are all overwhelmed. I am not alone. I get up, introduce myself and wait for their feedback. Nervous for it.

And then it actually hit me.

This is the last first class meeting I will ever have. This syllabus is the last that will be handed out to me. And these people are all in the same boat. They are my last classmates.All of whom are feeling the exact same way, a couple seem to still be a little behind even.  They were freaking out because they felt behind, they didn't know what they were going to do. If they could finish themselves. And a few ask me for help, because as they said I kicked butt in the first half and they admired my work.

 If they only knew I was freaking out just as much as they were.

And suddenly, I think I just may be ok. Yes it is going to be a lot of work, and yes I will curse every filthy, dirty word out of my mouth more than once (to which I will already owe an apology to my family) but I am just about there.  But after that, I am done.

Finished.

I just got to get there.

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