Every semester I'm come home with some sort of wound to heal and no energy to do so. I don't dodge responsibility. I have to be very careful in making sure I actually deal with things, rather than pretend I'm dealing with them while actually letting them stew.
I should have been graduating today. I. was. so. close. I could feel that paper in my hand. I've already spent an extra year at HLG, I was ready to grow up. I was ready to move on.
And it hurts.
I'm so joyful for my friends who have made it. They've come so far. I'm glad they had good experiences. They are off to become themselves even more, and I'm excited for them.
There's a giant ball of swarming emotions caught in my throat and I'm not sure what to do with them. God is still good, and lovely, and faithful. Life isn't awful, or stupid, or dramatic.
And it hurts.
It's not that we've put up with an abusive professor and ministry team leader for four years. I'm not the only one who's come out of that wretched place feeling stupid and incompetent--and I'll be honest, it's because of her. It's not that the education department never offered secondary teachers any help, assistance, guidance, or recognition. It's not that nobody ever bothered to communicate with my cooperating teacher or supervising teacher about things they needed to know and I wasn't aware of. It's not that my advisor never communicated with me or did anything to help me graduate on time. It's not even that they allowed their second mistake (which they assured everyone wouldn't happen again) to hit me over the head and screw over the semester.
It's that the closest thing I ever got to an apology was "yea, it wasn't fair to expect that of you."
It's that Dr. Swisher looked at me and said "yea, you shouldn't have done that."
It's that Mr. Bogue based my grade off of my situation, rather than my improvement.
And it's that when I brought it to Dr. Pelleteir, I left knowing nothing would ever be done about it.
It's that I know, without a doubt, if I had been given the chance, I could have been the best damn social studies teacher that moronic school has ever seen.
I know I could have been a more responsible student. I know there's more questions I could have asked. I know I always could have stayed up later, skipped social occasions, studied harder, managed time better. I know the real world isn't fair and is just as ready to screw a person over. and I know that every person and every school makes mistakes. And I know that I shouldn't have an entitled attitude.
But after being trained in an environment where I was punished for asking questions and punished for being the wrong gender:
After being assigned an advisor who never told me:
After working with a secondary education department that's a joke:
And after watching those who have distinctly broken the rules I have always followed and challenged the authority I always respected and never received a single consequence:
After sequence, after sequence, after sequence, after sequence.
They've stolen 5 1/2 years of loans from me. They've stolen my potential. They've stolen my GPA. They've stolen a salary. They've stolen opportunities. They've stolen my independence and my dad's health.
I'm not apologizing for expecting integrity from a "missions award winning school."
I love the friends I've made. I love professors like Dr. Lemons and Dr. Bergen. I know there's a reason God wanted me at HLG. But when I get that diploma next spring, I'm leaving campus and never taking a single look back.
And it still. hurts.
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