baby out with the bathwater?

Is it a bad sign that on my 3-week summer vacation after my first 3 terms of my very 1st year of acupuncture school, I didn’t think about Chinese medicine for even a second? I didn’t needle, I didn’t moxa, I didn’t cup, I didn’t read exciting non-textbook info that I’d been whining there was no time to read during school. I never thought to myself, "Hey - acupuncture would help that!" like I normally would. I even cringed on last week’s all-family gathering when I realized I could help my nephew with some good ol’ fashioned acupressure. I didn’t want to. What’s that all about?! And I’m pretty sure it’s nowhere near being about good boundaries and knowing when to take a break or any of that good stuff. Instead I fear that I’m letting acupuncture school kill my love for and interest in this medicine. I’m the most extreme example of it I’ve seen, at least among my classmates. I don’t study, I skip as many classes as i can away with, I can’t make myself listen when I’m there even if it’s about something I’m really interested in, and (I pray this is just that it’s summer and it’s hot) I’m not even feeling the love when I’m at work at the WCA clinic! That was my stronghold before – how I knew that my school feelings meant nothing about my future.
The only reason I wonder if this means I should second guess my future career choice is this: I’ve got the sweetest set-up of any acupuncture student in the history of acupuncture students. I’ve got the whole world of Working Class Acupuncture as mentors, friends, ass-kicking motivators, and current and future employers. I’ve got a vision and, now thanks to CAN, an ever-growing community to turn to and to watch. If that’s not enough to keep a fire lit under my ass while making it through 3, count ‘em, 3 piddly years of school, I just don’t know what is.
I know, I know, it’s hoop-jumping and all my learning will really start later and blahblahblah, but I may have never been less graceful. I picture it like this: there’s a scary clown holding a hoop of fire that’s too small for my body to fit through, but I start running and leap through it anyway, landing on my back on the same side of the hoop I started from, fully on fire and yelling up at the clown, “Does that count as a pass? Can I be an acupuncturist now?”