(no subject)
This has been a day of ups and downs. It was the last day of our studio's trip to New Orleans, a trip that went exceptionally well and caused me to fall head-over-heels in love with the French Quarter. While waiting in the airport (our flight was delayed), I got a phone call from Ricciardi ensuring me that my grad-school-application letters of recommendation had been sent in.
So far, this is all fantastically reassuring, is it not?
Imagine my shock at finding out that the most influential professor of my undergraduate career is suffering from an incurable, rare and exotic form of cancer. He was so calm about it on the phone, but I was devastated. While I had him on the phone (not knowing when or if we'd have the opportunity to speak again), I told him how much everything that he had shared in the classroom had inspired me. I told him that he was the reason that I'm going back to school and doing what I'm doing. I tried to hide from my students the fact that tears were streaming down my face as he said, "Well, it's students like you who make it easy for me to do what I do."
And then I arrived home to check my e-mail and find Hofstra's course schedule for this fall in my inbox. Now I'm reading all of the course descriptions, remembering the last time that I was in a classroom (under his tutelage), and crying. I'm trying not to think about it too much, but the impending loss of yet another of my mentors (after losing the first-and-foremost) is just hitting me much harder than I'd expected. I hate being this sad.
So far, this is all fantastically reassuring, is it not?
Imagine my shock at finding out that the most influential professor of my undergraduate career is suffering from an incurable, rare and exotic form of cancer. He was so calm about it on the phone, but I was devastated. While I had him on the phone (not knowing when or if we'd have the opportunity to speak again), I told him how much everything that he had shared in the classroom had inspired me. I told him that he was the reason that I'm going back to school and doing what I'm doing. I tried to hide from my students the fact that tears were streaming down my face as he said, "Well, it's students like you who make it easy for me to do what I do."
And then I arrived home to check my e-mail and find Hofstra's course schedule for this fall in my inbox. Now I'm reading all of the course descriptions, remembering the last time that I was in a classroom (under his tutelage), and crying. I'm trying not to think about it too much, but the impending loss of yet another of my mentors (after losing the first-and-foremost) is just hitting me much harder than I'd expected. I hate being this sad.