"You're very well-spoken and well-read."

I'm so tired of graduate school.

Like, I love it, but I hate it. I'm that girl who always loved school. I love learning and reading. Few things excite me like a brand new pack of ink pens or neon-colored notebooks. I live for mid-July, when Target puts their new school supplies on display.

But yeah, I'm kinda over grad school.

Right now I'm in only one class (and I'm $1,300 poorer as of, like, yesterday. Thanks, Ole Miss. #tuitionproblems). It's a seminar on Jane Austen, legendary English author I was never a fan of. The truth: I'd never read anything by Jane Austen. At all.

Despite being mentally done with my courses, I find myself more and more fascinated with Jane Austen as we spend approximately two and a half hours every Tuesday night discussing her.

It happened a few weeks ago, as I was asked to read another fairly large chunk of text in one of our Jane Austen novels, Northanger Abbey.

Upon finishing my reading to my nine classmates, my professor nods his head at me.

"Wow, thank you for that, Kate," he says. "That was enjoyable. You're very well-spoken and well-read. Good job."

I may be twenty-six (to my credit, I was still 25 when this happened), but I positively beamed. I tried not to show it, but I was as thrilled as I was in elementary school when the teacher praised me and bragged on me in front of the other kids. To say I don't mind attention would be an understatement; I love attention. But I especially enjoy it in situations and environments when I feel completely behind and, for lack of a better word, stupid.

Don't get me wrong: I'm smart. I know I am. But in so many of my graduate school courses, I've often just sat there listening, often afraid to speak up. I always have something to say, but I'm often afraid to say it. It was because of this comment my professor made towards my reading that I realized that what I have to say is valuable. I can speak up if I want to.

So in class a few nights ago, we were talking about the argument of social improvement in Austen's writing, and I was dying to speak. With half an hour left in class, I raised my hand.

"But look at what he adds down at the bottom of page 116," I said, pointing to it on my laptop screen, prompting my classmates and professor to look in their copies as well. We were reading an essay by a literaty critic who was, for lack of a better way of putting it, poking fun at Austen.

"Isn't he," I continued, "making a joke of Austen here? Isn't he completely ripping apart what millions of people love about her?"

"YES, Kate!" my professor says shouts. "That is exactly what he's done. Go ahead and read that entire section for us, please..."

I get to read and this makes me happy. When I finish, a classmate sitting across from me says, "You have a great reading voice."

"She really does," my professor chips in.

I blush and say "thank you," but I am dying inside.

When I began writing this post, I wasn't quite sure where I was heading with it, but it's a little more clear to me now. I'm realizing that I'm not the smartest or the most innovative, but I am well-spoken and well-read. When I have things to say, not just in my Jane Austen class but in general, I should speak up and say them. We are less than a week away from the 2016 Election Day, and I've not said much about it at all, not here or anywhere, but I realize that while not everyone will agree with what I say, my thoughts and opinions are valuable. They do matter. I can say what I feel and back myself up if I need to.

Maybe there are more people like me than I thought. Actually, I'm sure there are. Maybe you're like this too, and my hope is that you, like me, realize your potential and value in this crazy world. We are worth far more than we realize.

-Kate