I thought I was taking a class that I could breeze through. I thought I was taking a class where my wit would suffice for conversation and common sense would prevail. I thought I was taking a class where we'd sit and talk about what we think. Little did I realize. Philosophy. I thought it would be easy. I thought wrong.
My instructor was what every incoming freshman should have as their first taste of higher education. Old enough to have backpacks full of worldly experience, but young enough to remember how terrifying this stage of life is. He was perfect. Pleasant and forceful, kind and demanding, leading and inspiring. From day one, he inspired me to think beyond my initial thoughts and go after anything and everything I wanted. He was controversial, constantly forcing every person in the room to defend and define their beliefs and ideas.
I specifically signed up for a class with the same instructor for this semester, and again for a summer intersession. They are classes I would've taken anyway, but now they're classes I take with great haste and impatience because I can not wait to hear what the instructor has to say. Sadly, I checked my schedule this evening and found that my beloved instructor isn't teaching the summer intersession.
In all honesty, this is a huge relief, as I've been considering withdrawing from the class due to summer time constraints. But deep down, it stings a little. A quite indignation of, "don't they know how much he has inspired me?" rips through my mind. I am not ready to not be his pupil.
The fears I faced in order to enroll in college often creep into my pockets and weigh me down. I'm sometimes overwhelmed with the path of higher education laid out before me. But I always come back around to the days my Philosophy instructor demanded more out of me. More in a debate, more in a belief, more insight into words on the page. And when I force that "more" out of me, the fear subsides.
Everyone should have a professor that saves their lives. It's even better if the professor starts their lives.
*turns on radio* I WANNA KNOW WHAT LOVE ISSSS! *sweatdrop* *turns radio off* I'm thinking no.
I agree with you - I have a teacher who I owe everything to, because she helped me believe in myself, even when she had no clue, and even when I didn't like her. Sadly, she no longer teaches at my school.