Fin

French is over, and that feels big. Unreal, but big. Two years, a university requirement and personal struggle---complete. I left class over an hour ago and I'm still shaking. French has been difficult, anxiety provoking and incredibly frustrating at times. But I feel the same as when I started; I want to be fluent in languages other than English. I want to be able to communicate effectively with more people. I want to travel to new places and have a bigger, if even slight, chance of being able to speak the native language.
That could be French. After two years of it, I'm well on my way. And even with my struggle to stay in school, I did well. I knew what I was doing, even if I was unable to realize it at the time. I could take more French, spend more money and time to make that goal a reality. I could. Or I could chalk it up to a good experience and take the classes that I need to for my major. I have the whole summer to decide I guess.
I wrote my prof a card, trying to express without being inappropriately emotional, my gratitude. He probably doesn't think anything of it, which is why he's such a good person and teacher. He was so incredibly kind, patient, flexible and generous all year. Every time I sent him an email in panic about my grade, or when I would miss an assignment and ask to make it up or take a test in his office or miss a lot of class---he responded quickly, effectively, honestly and with compassion. He appreciated having me as a student and had faith in ability even though I didn't.
So much regret, guilt and shame I hold onto from all of the times I have disappointed myself and by extension assumed I have disappointed others---I carry that with me. And maybe that's why I needed to write the card. To find a way to make up for how difficult it probably was to deal with me. To explain myself and to say thanks. But how is anybody supposed to fit all of that in a card?
The truth is, I'll never be able to really explain how I feel to anyone. The challenges I've had this year, the obstacles I've had to face---those are mine. It isn't possible for another person to know exactly how thankful I am for my prof, my unexpected victories and for my second year of French to finally be over. That'll have to be okay. I just wish I could say the same about my other classes. A ten-page paper and an "incomplete", for lack of a better expression, to complete and then I can actually breathe, and celebrate and breathe.

But I still think I'm going to give myself the night off.