In the week since finishing my first semester in seventeen years, I’ve wanted to write about the semester. I’ve simultaneously been too bone-weary to muster additional words and unsure what, exactly, I wanted to write about the semester: the period that began my formal journey toward a public health career. I haven’t known what to say, at least not in a handful of words.
Wednesday evening, I came across an article that helped me clarify what I want to say, for now. The article movingly wove together themes showing up throughout the semester in both my classes; most noteworthy, however, was how it explicitly joined themes from final assignments in both my Spring 2021 courses. Continue reading “On COVID-19 & a semester concluded”
I recently returned to school, part-time.
Unlike my earlier dalliances with school, I am deeply passionate about what I’m now studying. Instead of slogging through the motions for the degree at the end, then, I now wake up on Monday mornings ecstatic at the prospect of being able to explore the new week’s content.
(While sitting around reading is illuminating and I do a bunch of that, engaging with others on the material is partly how it truly gets “in the bones” for me. Chatting with professors and classmates, I am able to move away from abstract understandings and instead link up everything I’m learning with real life. It’s lovely, and inspiring!)
And yet: I come to my now-formal studies of public health with certain … perspectives. As much as being informed by all I read, these perspectives are borne from my own lived experiences with poverty and the various violences, both structural and interpersonal, with which they are correlated.
So when I began reading chapter 2 of the intro text for one of my courses, I felt a gut-level antagonism to its focus: Continue reading “because: evidence.”