73 days

IN A MERE 73 DAYS, my classmates and I will don our caps and gowns and hoods (and cords and stoles and medallions) to take the long-awaited, oft-dreamt of walk across the stage. Our names will be spoken and we will be handed our diplomas. We will be cheered by family members and friends. We will probably shed a few tears. (I am hoping I don't make sobbing noises.)

As I study for my last midterms and write one of my last major papers, I am pondering what life will be like without all these demands. For two and a half years my life has been structured to accommodate advanced academia and all that goes with getting a Master's degree (politics, personalities, perseverance, patience, and pandemonium).

I have loved it and hated it; endured it and cherished it. I have felt cared for (loved even, by some of my classmates) and I have felt like the Other. I have fit in and felt left out. I have been a joiner and opted out. I have loved back and practiced tolerance and acceptance when I couldn't. I have prayed for people and cursed situations. I have suffered from the isolation that serious students experience and I have felt surrounded and supported by family and friends.

I can't imagine not being in school and yet I can't fathom doing it one more day than I am required.

I am ready.

~Ms. T. J.