Shaping the Future: When College Leads You Where You Never Expected to Go By: Gavin Kyd for Advanced Composition, ETSU listentokyd@gmail.com Date: 12/4/2012 A 19-year old college student, Gavin Kyd, explains how plans for a medical career morph into something completely different when he discovers his love for literary works. Along the way, he reflects on difficulties that many young American undergraduates face when shaping the lifelong career they wish to imagine for themselves. On November 11, 2011, the leaves were changing colors and making their slow descent to the ground. Scarves, hats, and mittens were starting to bud throughout East Tennessee State University, ETSU. The medium sized campus in Johnson City, Tennessee had plenty of fresh mountain air to rush into the lungs, chill your insides, and the relief of an exhale created a cloud of steam. Leaves crunch as people walk on the summer passed. The sun is raising over the hill, creating a golden walkway to Lucille Clement, the resident hall I live in. My advisement appointment is at two with Stacey, my Pre-Medical advisor, and I start my day with thoughts of anticipation for future semesters at ETSU. ETSU has allowed 15,000 students attend classes, but for me there is only one class that I have not planned for in my schedule. Stacey had advised me for a literature course, British
Literature II, since literature was one course everyone had to take. Why would ETSU ever make a literature course a required class to graduate? I looked for some loophole out none. I was stuck. I asked around in my science classes to find out whom to take to get an easy A. The name that kept reoccurring was Doctor Robert Stratford. I signed up for the class and once winter break ended, the scholar erupted. * * * January 11 th, 2012 came upon students faster than expected and I sat in the front, as I do in all my classes, so I could pay attention and not fall asleep. What would Dr. Stratford be like? What would he grade heavily on or be more lenient on? Was he young or Old? The unexpected is what most students fear the most when they take a class with a new professor. Only time would allow the students to shake the apprehensive nature. Time was melting away, the class slowly filling, and finally Dr. Sawyer stepped in and began class. I m Dr. Stratford and this is British Literature II. Most of my studies are in Shakespeare, but I also study the Victorian Age, the reason I am teaching this class, Stratford pointed out. Stratford was so arrogant in his first word that he made me want to get up and walk out. It would have been the first time that I walked out of a class, but I did not want the class to think I was intimidated, or worse, not good enough. The first day was the normal introductory class: go over the syllabus, get a seating arrangement, and get to know the professor a little more. We began on the first lesson, William Blake. There was almost a challenge to stay in the class and pay attention for the entire hour. We learned about Blake s drug usage and how it influenced his writing. Blake s drug usage really interested me. I felt like the normal poet should be frilly and happy, but Blake was the exact opposite. I found out that day that I would
have to write a paper on the topic of my choice. I had no idea what the topic would be, but it would have be on a poet like Blake. Then Dr. Stratford taught me more than I could have ever asked for when he said, if you want to do well in this class you must read outside of class. What? I am a science major and anything that this literature course throws at me I can surely do, but I actually read Blake that night. I never had done read for any other class, even my science courses. I read once, twice, even some pieces a third time. I was going to go into Dr. Stratford s class and make sure that I was the absolute best in the class at whatever questions he could think of. I don t know if it was my competitive nature instilled in me or if I was actually enjoying Dr. Stratford s class, but I just needed to know about what Blake had to say about the world and so I read myself to sleep that night. I reported to class on Friday and we read over the poems during class and I made sure that I had made my point on all of the poems that we had read the previous night. The one that I really enjoyed was The Lamb. I thought of innocence and bliss, this was rather odd since I was reading drug induced poems. I was congratulated by Dr. Sawyer for doing my homework. It was then when my confidence laid the cornerstone for Dr. Stratford s class. I did not know what was coming over me. All my efforts were channeling into this measly subject, but my body, needing more material, kept me awake at night until I read. I read through all the books I had brought to school with me. The words of the authors running through my veins and my mind devoured the plethora of pages as if they empowered my everyday actions. On February 25th, I made the short trip to the Johnson City Public Library. I found stories, such as The Old Man and the Sea and The Scarlet Letter, fascinating enough to satisfy
my needs, but I needed more. I applied for a volunteering position at the public library and that day I was sorting books. From then on, I read works that I would never have had access to. Edgar Allen Poe was one of the authors that fueled my drive. Now, almost naturally, I picked up more books about him to learn more about his writing style and his obsession with death. The semester kept on getting better and better because I had found a way to get away. The class had taken me to the middle of March when we came upon The Blessed Damozel by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. I loved his work because it was the silver lining of heaven had been cut out and only left a bleak damsel wishing for her lover. I read this poem over and over. I had never been so involved in a poem. Growing up in a football town, poetry was for the weak and weird. I had thought of Poe s writing when I read The Blessed Damozel and knew that connection would be what I wrote my final paper on. Knowing now what my topic would be I would have to suck up my pride and ask the expert how I could write this paper to his liking. I walk into Dr. Stratford s office two day later. There is a wall of books to my right and amongst them Shakespeare and Bronte. Dr. Stratford is seated at a computer desk with a green lounge chair not far away. He designates the green chair to be mine. As I tell Dr. Stratford about my idea, he is leaned back in the black, leather office chair and is accepting my thoughts. He loves the connection that I have made between Poe and Rossetti. The meeting is very short, but I know that Dr. Stratford is expecting an exceptional paper from me. Hang out sessions, extra-curricular events, and, every once in a while, meals were cut from my schedule to make room for Dr. Stratford s paper. I had started spending all of my time at the Sherrod Library, the four floor monster on campus, and read the biographies of Poe and Rossetti over and over to find a connection that might solidify my argument. I had come up with
the name A Blessed Tragedy because Poe and Rossetti reminded me so much of the good in the world that they had altered in their works. There was one night in particular, March 29 th, when I was researching that my friends wanted to grab a bite to eat and I refused. Their response, What has happened to you that you don t want to put a book down? You have changed. The phoenix had arisen. I died in one way and was rebirthed in another. The transition was taking hold of me and digging its claws into my heart until I was one with this beast. It had taken me almost two months to realize what I had become. I was no longer looking forward to the science labs, but rather waiting until after classes to get back to my research or get back to my readings. Science had always been my rock and now it was a stone I kicked along the road when I was bored. That night, although I had labs the next day, homework due in all three of my classes the next day, and a profound paper due the next week, I did nothing. I had sat and reflected, wondering who I was and what I was becoming. After weeks of labor, the paper was finished and I turned it in April 4 th. Dr. Sawyer had checked my paper during that exam period and asked to see me after class that day. I complied and was dumbfounded by the conversation that followed. Gavin, this paper is great. You are probably the only Rossetti scholar that I know. I was wondering what you were into or better yet your major. Dr. Sawyer had asked me. Chemistry, Biochemistry, and medicine, was my response.
Great. How would you like it if I got you a job to write for a medical journal? I know an editor and I don t care to give a good recommendation for you to her because you are very good at writing. That would be great, but my mind was the opposite direction. I would love to write for a medical journal, but I felt unprepared and my heart wasn t in it. I wanted to read and write about dead poets, and Dr. Stratford said I could write, but I had no real experience in writing other than in high school. I felt so unprepared that I never wrote for the journal, didn t even send in my resume because I was set on writing about literature. The next day, I walked into the English department and asked to speak to an advisor to change to English minor. I knew that I had to get into the English field or I would never get to learn about any other poets that may or may not impact my life. The new me could not go another day without reading another literary work and the English minor seemed promising. * * * To this day, I have not told Dr. Stratford that I would like to write on literary geniuses. I have carried on with my Biology and Chemistry majors and my English minor with success in all areas. The offer still stands for me to be accepted as a writer for the East Tennessee Medical Journal, but I have decided that I needed to write for the East Tennessean (the school paper) for more experience in interviewing and gaining facts. I still volunteer at the public library regularly aside from all the other things that I do. I even think about what would have happened if I would have taken another course at that time if I would have still been as passionate about books as I am today.