In my years as a college student, I have come to realize that every other week of the semester is hell.
After the initial meltdown, you drive to Starbucks to order the first of many lattes. Resigned to the fact that you'll be getting no sleep for the next 120 hours, you down half of your venti white mocha in the first gulp and set to work.
Over the course of the week, you cry a lot. You wear sweats every day. You think of dropping out. You see groups of eager, bright-eyed high schoolers touring the campus and feel the need to yell out, to warn them. Don't do it! It's a trap!
Friday rolls around. You drag yourself to your last class. You are literally crawling to your desk. Your classmates are silent as most of them are already asleep. Others sit alert, eyes twitching from the caffeine pumping through their body. Your professor takes no notice of any of this. His heart has been hardened by years of teaching at the university level, and despite the obvious suffering of his students, he plows through his lecture on the meaning of yellow wallpaper.
You make it through though! You drive home, put on pajamas, and sleep until noon on Saturday. I will not make that mistake again, you think. You check next week's schedule as soon as you wake up—just readings all week. You let out a sigh of relief. You call up that friend and go out for celebratory margaritas. This is your second mistake.
-Maggie
You will have a week where you've nothing to do but class readings. It instills in you a false sense of security. College isn't so bad, you think. I actually have some free time this week. I'll call up that friend I haven't seen since August and we'll go see a movie!
This is your first mistake. Free time is a myth. Like spacious dorm rooms and cheap textbooks, it simply does not exist. You only realize this late Sunday night when it is far too late. While looking at your schedule for the impending week—the two tests, reading quiz, and six-page paper all due within the next five days—you feel the panic set in.
What have I done? you think, head in your hands. Why did I sleep so much this weekend? And that ninety minutes I spent watching Sandra Bullock float around in space? I can never get that back!
After the initial meltdown, you drive to Starbucks to order the first of many lattes. Resigned to the fact that you'll be getting no sleep for the next 120 hours, you down half of your venti white mocha in the first gulp and set to work.
Over the course of the week, you cry a lot. You wear sweats every day. You think of dropping out. You see groups of eager, bright-eyed high schoolers touring the campus and feel the need to yell out, to warn them. Don't do it! It's a trap!
Friday rolls around. You drag yourself to your last class. You are literally crawling to your desk. Your classmates are silent as most of them are already asleep. Others sit alert, eyes twitching from the caffeine pumping through their body. Your professor takes no notice of any of this. His heart has been hardened by years of teaching at the university level, and despite the obvious suffering of his students, he plows through his lecture on the meaning of yellow wallpaper.
You make it through though! You drive home, put on pajamas, and sleep until noon on Saturday. I will not make that mistake again, you think. You check next week's schedule as soon as you wake up—just readings all week. You let out a sigh of relief. You call up that friend and go out for celebratory margaritas. This is your second mistake.
-Maggie
