Dear Governor Bevin,

Dear Michael Benson,

Dear EKU Board of Regents

And anyone else who wants to question the legitimacy of my degree,

I am an English major at EKU. The past few weeks have been rough for my colleagues and I, as the class caps have been raised on English classes. Classes that previously only had to have 10-15 students now have to have 20-25. So, even though EKU allows student to add classes as late as the Sunday after classes start, classes are already being cut as early as May, which sucks but at least we still have time to fix our schedules right? Except multiple classes were cut literally two days before school starts. Now, English students are racing to pick classes they haven’t already had that will hopefully fit their schedule, from a list that is literally dwindling by the hour. I also just read a report mentioning the 21 programs at Eastern that are being recommended for suspension, including Journalism and Theatre. but let me explain something to you:

When I was 5 years old, my then single mother and I packed our bags and moved from Huntington, WV to a sleepy little town in Eastern Kentucky. I was mad. I was scared. I had nightmares for months after moving. And then one day, mom took me to the public library for family night. We read book after book about dragons and magic treehouses and the Berenstain Bears until she had to drag me out kicking and screaming. We went back shortly after and I got my very own library card. That was better than any Christmas present I could have ever gotten.

My dad passed away when I was 10 years old. My mom bought me a bunch of kids books about dealing with loss. I read them every single night from July to Christmas.

When I was in high school, and my mental and physical health was crumbling, and I struggled every day to get out of bed, I had my own personal library as my saving grace.

During a particularly bad point in my depression, I read "It’s Kind of a Funny Story" by Ned Vizzini. That was the book that made me realize that I needed to talk to someone and that even if it didn’t feel like it right now, everything was going to be okay.

For every hard moment of my life, books were there. At some point, my love for words turned into a love for writing. When I was angry and depressed and heartbroken and hurt I wrote about it. The power that words had for me was unlike anything else. So, of course when someone asked what I wanted to be, I proudly declared, “A writer!” And, of course, that was shot down. I was told I would never get a real job. I was told I would end up “poor and have to depend on a man.” I was told that lots of people want to be writers, but almost no one makes it big. I was told that if I wanted to be a writer, then I wouldn’t matter.

So I went into college, majoring in nursing because that was a “mature decision” and I would do something that mattered and make good money while I was at it. I was miserable. Not even in the general, “College is exhausting and my blood is mostly caffeine” way. More like the “I am struggling to get out of bed and have to go therapy and take medicine to have any motivation because I hate my major so much” way.

One day I realized, that was a load of crap. And I changed my major. And, instead of sitting through anatomy lectures, I was having intense, passionate conversations about literature with people who cared just as much about it as I did. I was excited to go to class. I got a job at the Noel Studio where I get to use my love for words to help other students realize how smart and capable they are. You cannot look at me after I’ve had a consultation with a student where he comes in, in tears because he doesn’t think he can’t do it and walks out ready to write a full research paper, and tell me what I do doesn’t matter.

I know a lot of people are questioning why we’re building all of these new building on campus, when we can’t even afford to have classes. I understand that money for these projects comes from partnerships and donations and can’t be used for other things. I realize that isn’t the answer. I’m not exactly sure what the answer is, but I can tell you the first step is to realize the value of the arts. Realize that the arts are life-changing and life saving. Matt Bevin, you once said “Our state needs less English teachers and more engineers.” No, our state needs more English teachers. We need more writers, and musicians, and artists.

One of my favorite movies, "Dead Poets Society" said it best, “Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”

Read that. And tell me my degree doesn’t matter.