I will be graduating this year after what feels like an extremely long time, especially when it comes to particular classes, such as A History of Literary Production, in which the books are far longer than my attention span and the professor seems to talk excessively. Honestly, I don’t know how she manages to make an eighty minute class feel like it’s literally lasted days, but she definitely has a knack for it. And what a useless skill.
In just two (hopefully) short weeks of class and three exams, I will officially be done with school (assuming that I don’t fail everything, which seems highly unlikely at this point). I had a good time over these past four years. Or at least I think I did. It’s hard to tell when I’m currently in the midst of dreading writing two more papers and memorizing an excessive number of dates for my Art History exam.
I also think I learned a lot. I mean, I definitely know more than I did when I entered university, which is definitely a good thing, because it means that the thousands of dollars I put into this undergrad was not without purpose. I still don’t know what postmodernism is, though. I’m actually quite pleased that I managed to make it through a four-year English program without ever learning that properly. If anything, maybe it will teach professors that “It’s a response to modernism” is not actually a very helpful definition because, let’s be honest, most of us don’t actually know what modernism is either. I do, but only because I accidentally took an entire course on early 20th century Canadian modernist poetry. That was rough three months, let me assure you.
But now, with my vast knowledge of largely impractical and useless assorted knowledge, such as that of apiculture, avant-garde jazz, and Shakespearean sonnets, I move onto the real world, where I will be told to write more concisely and really only be useful in pub trivia. And I finally won’t tell my mother, almost every single night, that I don’t want to go to school in the morning.
~ Hilary Lyon Axle Hatchet