What English Means to Me

What English Means To Me.

We hates it, Precious

It is a story I have told to many people and will likely tell many more in the future; however, perhaps if you yourself have not heard it I might fill you in on how my love of English began? I was bought a copy of The Hobbit when I was in sixth grade by my mother. At the time I was not explicitly interested in reading; my energies were directed at my SNES, the All-Father of my time and attention. I distinctly remember the issues my mother had with video games and it was this: where will all his time go if he is playing on that thing [the SNES in question]?” It was around this time I was pushed into trying to read things that were harder and harder for me, things that made me frustrated and upset (one of the ‘chiefest of calamities’ at my age being ‘Mad Dog of Lobo Mountain,’ one of the D.J. Dillon Adventure books). 

My Graduate Message To You, Dear Reader

Almost one year ago I enrolled for the University of Texas at Tyler’s Masters Degree program so I could pursue my MA in English. I was enrolled under what is called “Provisional Acceptance,” this meaning that, while I had not graduated, I was within a few hours of my goal. The semester before had been genuinely awful: I had failed two courses, two courses I did not feel I was particularly good at, and I was also worried about re-taking these courses and doing Provisional Acceptance courses too. I was so worried about how I was going to succeed at these two undergrad courses. One of was Biology and I have never found the subject easy because of the tension the tests gave me.