Legend, Pt. II

It's exactly how the semester needed to end.

Today was the final day of Middle Eastern Politics, and for whatever reason, I feel extremely mixed about it being over. It had a brain-chewing midterm, extremely dense reading to catch us up on the history of each individual country in the Middle East, and a 10-page paper that, when finished, became my 17-page manual for reconstructing Iraq's judiciary.

And it was awesome.

And the finish? Storybook.

We were closing our final lecture debating the techniques the U.S. has used to spread our influence and democracy in the Middle East. In the closing few comments, a student suggested that our professor, if offered, should never take a position in Iraq to aid with reconstruction. They finished their comment with a, "Don't do it!" The class laughed in one of those rare, special moments where we show our deep affection for the professor.

"Actually, " she said, "I think I'll be doing just that next year." And then silence. It wasn't a bad silence. It was a little bit shock (as some of us expected full well that we'd be taking another course of hers), and a little bit reverence.

Turns out, Professor Carroll was invited by the military to join them for a year in Iraq to help facilitate understanding between the American troops and the Iraqi citizens. We've established a program like this in Afghanistan, apparently, and it had massive success in lowering the death tolls of the troops and the citizens.

"Given the anxiety toward Arabs and Islam, it's stressful for an brigade being sent out in the middle of Iraq," she noted. That anxiety causes a lot of miscommunication, a lot of unnecessary death.

I walked out of class absolutely inspired today. In something so politicized, something you're almost sick about, hearing someone say, 'I think this can change; I think I can help,' thrilled me in the pit of my stomach.

As I walked out of class, I smiled. Our class was awesome. And it was because of Professor Carroll.

And I got that paper back today. The 99 didn't matter at all. My eyes moved past that pretty quickly to read "lovely Justin, very nice." Somehow, the words mean more than they ever have. They mean a lot.

Godspeed.