I knew my major was going to be English-- I've always known. That never wavered. Writing is a way of feeling for me. It's speaking and singing and honesty and the fantastic all at once, and something innate. Where I would learn more about literature and writing, however, was not so cemented. Coastal Carolina wasn’t my first choice for college. It was a safety college, one that my Mother liked and thus one that I hoped to avoid at all costs. I had every intention of going to the College of Charleston. I had already been accepted and offered multiple scholarship that would have paid my way through. My best friend, on the other hand, didn’t have as much freedom on deciding where to go. I was given the choice between attending Charleston on my own, or remaining close to home to support my best friend. I chose to stay with her, and was rewarded for my loyalty when she dropped out after her second semester. I've been told that was a stupid move on my part, and for a time I was inclined to agree. I was trapped at a school I hated with no one I could hate it with.

The only trouble was, I didn’t entirely hate it. Coastal took my expectations and beat me with them. While I struggled with my transfer from a dual-degree high school graduate to a college junior, I found Coastal’s professors to be forgiving. I had no interest in my classes, and I had already decided to transfer. I did so badly towards the end of my first Fall at Coastal that Dr. Oldfield gave me an incomplete and another chance. I don’t know if I deserved it, but her act of kindness made me a better student. The next semester, I left my laptop at home and started taking all of my notes by paper again. My grades weren’t phenomenal- I got sick, made some mistakes, made an F in one class- but I began to feel like I was really learning again. The next Fall, I knew I had changed. I made straight A's that semester, something that I hadn't accomplished since grade school. I can clearly recall another such moment when I decided to make a change. A student sitting behind me asked me my opinion on a class we were, and I told him how felt: bored. I had no interest in the class, and I wasn't fond of the professor. He said, "That's not fair. You don't even try. You just sit there." He was right, of course. I was being a complete jackass. The professor walked in to class for the day, and I made sure I paid attention for the whole class. I raised my hand to answer questions and joined in on the discussions. I made sure to meet up with my professor after class a few times, and I learned that I really did enjoy her as a professor.

Coastal has also made me a better writer. Dr. Oestreich's creative writing workshop made me re-think how I wrote from the ground up. Before his class, I would start from the beginning of the paper and work to the end, plugging in relevant material as I went. Not just for fiction, but for critical essays, too. Now I know how to plan my papers in a smarter way, filling in each paragraph with everything I need before writing, and writing out of order to help keep me focused and to make sure my paragraphs transition well. Not only that, but I do my best to make sure that I'm passionate about what I write before I even begin researching it. At the very least, I make my thesis as interesting as possible in order to write for myself, rather than just for a grade.

I owe Coastal Carolina's English Department an apology and my gratitude. I thought the program would be miserable, and that it would make me a bitter student. Instead, it has made me a better person and a better writer. I hadn't thought I could make friends, but my peers at Coastal went out of their way to show me a hospitality I hadn't known existed until now. I hope that I can reflect that kindness, and that love of learning, in my future as a continuing student and writer.