Spring’s rapid onslaught dulls students’ learning

Bethany Schlaikjer

Bethany Schlaikjer

Ah, its that time of year again. You know, when the subject “class” shifts from that file in your head labeled “important” to the one labeled “optional.” College students, tired of having information drilled into their skulls with the jackhammer of academia (and paying good money for it) become listless and disinterested.

You wake up in the dark to go to school (stupid daylight savings time anyway). As if it wasn’t difficult enough to get up at 7 a.m. Now you have to do it in the dead of night. You walk out to your car slowly, with all the enthusiasm of a four-year-old on his way to the dentist’s office. Kicking and screaming would be an option, but with age comes that inevitable self-consciousness one can only dismiss with the help of several alcoholic beverages. With the temper tantrum alternative totally exhausted, you grudgingly make your way to class.

Slumping into your desk as you reach your dreaded destination, you begin the daily habit of shifting around to find a comfortable sleeping-with-your-eyes-open position. Every day this routine proves useless (those desks are made for monkey people), but you do it anyway, hoping that one day the physic laws of monkey people chairs will somehow be broken and relaxation will finally occur. The battle is lost today, but the war continues. Class begins as you resign yourself to perpetual discomfort.

To avoid death by boredom, your mind starts to wander and suddenly you find yourself having a mental conversation with Gandhi about breakfast cereal preferences (“Apple Jacks or Fruit Loops?” he asks). The next thing you know the professor is staring at you, having asked you what is no doubt a deep, thought-provoking question to which your only available answer is “Fruit Loops all the way, man.”

By 8:30 am, college students can tell how the rest of their day will turn out, and during this time of year, the results are less than desirable (root canal). We want to be outside, at the movies, at the beach or driving down the highway with the wind in our hair! As we near the end of the semester, I must ask that the faculty forgive the students for their droopy eyelids and wistful glances toward the window. As for the students, may your mornings be bright and all your monkey chair battles won. Oh, and tell Gandhi I said hi.

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