When I came back from my trip to Italy in March, there was this package waiting for me on my bed, and I let out a scream. Then I read the letters that my apartment-mates sent me, and I started tearing up. Then I looked through the goodies, found my favorite "cardboard" crackers accompanied by some very extra crunchy peanut butter, and I became very thrilled. Needless to say, that day was a very emotional one for a girl who's usually a stone. Apartment-mates, if you guys are reading this, I just wanted to say thanks once again. One of the most significant things I had to give up to study abroad was living with you guys for another semester. I have such fond memories of our late night chats and antics, cooking together, planning our Christmas party, sitting primly in the living room when we finally got couches, grocery shopping and thrifting, and playing in the snow. If we were to be given an exam on apartment drama, I think we'd all fail because we never experienced it. So this sentence marks the end of my mushy-gushy paragraph on how lovely these mates of the apartment are, but our friendship? I hope it's only the beginning.
But let me start with when I was in junior high and high school. I went to a very small international school in Mexico. It was a place where everyone knew your name and you knew what your teachers did for the weekend. It was a normal occurrence for me to see the principal in his comfy colored shorts at the grocery store. When I decided to attend the University of Virginia, I thought I'd have to say farewell to associating academic settings with the Cheers theme song. But the little Valencian program gave me a chance to experience once again that close-knitty feeling that I much rather prefer to the fish-in-the-sea environment. But before I start sounding like a study abroad brochure, I will get to the point: I teared up when saying goodbye to my Spanish mass media professor (the rad lady in the glasses). I don't know whether this testifies to my nerdiness or just how lovely a professor she was--perhaps both, but probably a greater proportion of the latter. Anna Chover, I will miss our chats and your vivacious teaching style--especially that time you repeatedly stomped on a rebellious piece of chalk into pieces as punishment for continually rolling off your desk. And I love how much passion you have for newspapers.
Of course, I can't end this post without mentioning a certain peculiar art history professor of mine, Enrique (below). He was so shy and awkward on a daily basis, lived with two cats, and once gave us a lesson on the most effective way to position a bomb in order to completely blow up a building. Excuse me? Which reminds me of another awkward professor/moment: once, my culture and conversations professor Joaquin made us promise not to tell, then proceeded to tell us that the woman he married was not the one he loved the most; he married her more out of convenience. Times are tough, so I guess he thought it clever to consolidate students and therapist into one.
The phrase "a unique educational experience" is ringing in my ears in a variety of pitches. My professors were fantastic, strange, and unromantic. There's a slim chance I'll find out things like these about my professors in the semesters to come, which is a pity because I've rather enjoyed discovering that professors are real people, too.
My Latin American Lit professor! He was brilliant.
