Last Friday, I drove to my alma mater to see my sister participate in a speech competition as part of a speech class that most college students are required to complete before graduating. I left work a bit early and fought through traffic, although I ended up missing her speech. When I pulled into the old parking structure I would leave my car in, the memories effortlessly came flowing back into my mind. Rushed mornings, hunting for a parking space. The crisp, cool air as I walked to class. The heavy books in my bag, the coffee shop, the professors walking to class, the students all placed in this small microcosm of the world, where they were free to pursue education, knowledge and gain perspective.

I felt calm, comfortable, familiar. When I left my car and walked out across the street to campus, it felt like I had never left, and most of all, it felt good. Really good. Navigating my way up to the 4th floor of one of the buildings was too easy. I almost felt the need to rush, as I did when I was a student, racing against the clock to grab a seat in psychology or children’s literature perhaps.

I got there just in time to hear the winners being announced. The judging took long and while I waited with my sister, I couldn’t help but observe all the students in the room. They were all so…wide eyed and hungry. Hungry to learn, to consume, to make a difference. They had sacrificed a Friday night, to stay at school and present a speech. I watched in awe as they all waited nervously for the results. Some were even dressed in their finest clothes. At that point, I knew this probably meant so much to them, just as if would have for me while I was going to school.

After a deliberation, my sister took first place. I was and still am so proud of her. Her topic was about the sweatshop industry and she was awarded not only for her in depth research, but for her compelling delivery. And as her name was called, even with the announcer fumbling our last name, I had an incredible rush of blood to my head.

I realized how much I missed school, how much I missed learning and how I longed to be in a classroom, wide-eyed and ready to absorb, just like the students competing against my sister. I wanted to raise my hand, answer questions, take notes, work on projects, all the while working towards a goal – the goal of not only having a career, being a well-educated member of society, but being someone who actually has the ability to make a difference in the world.

I know, I know, my thoughts and ideas are perhaps overwhelmingly idealogical and perhaps even Utopian, but I am being completely honest when I say that school, college more specifically, is one of the most wonderful things in the world, and you are truly doing yourself a disservice if you decide not to attend. It’s an amazing opportunity that not everyone is privileged to have and I feel so lucky that I spent four years of my life learning – not learning because I had to, learning because I wanted to.

No one forced me to get up early, to fight for parking spaces like a predator, to go to class from morning till afternoon, then afterwards work on the student newspaper until 10 p.m. at night and then do it all over again the next day. No one forced me to take two jobs, while I was taking classes. No one forced me to do any of it, and that’s probably the reason why I today, when I think of my education, of what I’ve become, I feel like I’ve accomplished something great, as minuscule I think my accomplishments are.

It’s decided. I must go back.