Sumertime Sadness

After classes ended for the year, I was admittedly burnt out. I’ve talked before about the horrors of finals season, and they came again full-force this semester. Come the last week of my junior year, I was tired, grouchy, and suffering from severe carpal tunnel syndrome after writing my copious amounts of papers. (This was not formally diagnosed, but I think I’ve seen enough Grey’s Anatomy to successfully detect pretty much any ailment).

Anyway, now that I’m home, I took a few days off. I slept, I ate things other than my finals diet of cookie dough and old jelly beans, and I began to slowly relax a little. These days, I’m feeling pretty good. I’m mentally and physically rested and able to look back on what was, in retrospect, a pretty great semester. Not only did I learn a lot in the classroom these past few months, but I grew a lot outside of it. As an almost senior, I can say I’m now older, wiser, and more comfortable than ever in my Drake home and in Des Moines.

With this period of rest and reflection under my belt, something strange began happening. I not only began to miss Drake, Des Moines, and all my friends, but I began to miss school itself. I miss my Habitat for Humanity meetings and chatting with my professors in Howard Hall. I miss my classes and getting to discuss with other students. I miss all my readings, and yes, I even miss my homework.

Maybe I’m a little crazy or maybe it’s a case of pre-summer nostalgia. But maybe, just maybe, I go to a really great school that deserves to be missed.

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