I love the English department

I’m sick. I don’t know what’s wrong. It feels kinda like a sinus infection; I’ve had enough of them that the word “chronic” was thrown around. It also feels kinda like the flu. I’m not as experienced with the flu, but I’ve been around that block a time or two. I’ve never been stabbed repeatedly in the chest like a victim on Criminal Minds but it it feels like what I imagine that feels like.

I went to the doctor. She didn't know what was wrong either. She shrugged a little bit and gave me a prescription for some antibiotics. I think they're helping a little bit. But I still don't feel great. I told one of my professors. Now the entire English department knows.

Janet joking told me she thinks I have typhoid. But she also told all of my other professors that I wasn't feeling well. I can't walk down the hallway without someone asking me how I'm feeling.

I took three classes in the English department my freshman year. That's more than most people take the entire time they're at Augie. And I loved them. So I became an English (and journalism) major. It was one of the best decisions I've ever made.

When I missed class to be with Luke during surgery, they told me they hoped it went well and wished me well. Now when Luke walks down the English hall, he--one of the people who is in the middle of his second class in the department--is asked how he's feeling. When I missed meetings and work, they gladly rescheduled.

My professors are kind. My professors are intelligent. My professors genuinely care about me and I value that so, so much. Earlier this week I was on the phone with my mom, and she said, "I wish I was there to take care of you." I wish she was, too. But in the absence of my mommy, the English department is a pretty okay substitute.

//054