“This is fine”
Hey everyone! Just a quick little disclaimer before you read…
I have to be clear when I say that this blog post is not here to complain or dismiss that COVID-19 is a matter of concern. I am aware of the severity of the virus and the harsh implications it’s placed around the world. I am just here to express the feelings I had last week when we received news that the university I attend was transitioning to remote learning until April 13th with the possibility of no on-campus classes for the rest of the semester. It was a surreal couple of days that included lots of denial, frustration, stress, and sadness across campus. In turn, it led many seniors (including myself) to deeply reflect on our college careers.
On Tuesday night, I was frantically finishing a lab report due the next day. I was stressed out of my mind. Senioritis was in full swing and my procrastination truly got the best of me. Under the florescent lights of the Madill Science Library my fingers aggressively tapped away on my laptop in a sweat. How could I leave this so last minute? As I finally submitted the report, I heard the delightful chime of a email notification. What I didn’t realize was that the single email I received was going to change everything that was going to happen in the week ahead of me.
I’m not here to over-dramatize or criticize President Fox’s email on St. Lawrence’s transition to remote learning, but I instantly felt defeated, lost, and most importantly unsure of my remaining time at St. Lawrence.
Was this really it?
My academic career was almost over anyways, but now I leave to a campus where I felt so safe so abruptly. I had spent a majority of my time at the university afraid to do anything. Afraid to stand up for myself, speak out, leave toxic relationships, and most importantly, just be my goddamn myself. Yet, my senior year showcased something very different from past semesters, I wasn’t afraid anymore. Yeah, I’m aware of how cliché this sounds but college was a time where I began to see through my own eyes and become invested in things I truly love. In all honesty, I began to see myself the way I thought any mature, self-sufficient adult would.
Sitting in the Hoot that Tuesday night, I sat around a group of hilarious friends I didn’t have months prior. I glanced around the crowded bar and saw my past. I saw my first-year floor-mates and old teammates, I saw people who I’d share all my secrets to in my little single in Lee-West, laugh and cry with in Sykes, who now all seem to be strangers to me now, passing by with different friends and personalities.
In those moments I’ve seen how much I’ve grown, how much I’ve changed. Sitting at the high-top, glancing down at countless seniors in tears, I had a feeling that this might be the last time I’d be enjoying these moments. This could be the last time we could jokingly talk about our futures. In the moments we knew that we had to leave campus, it felt so easy to talk about life beyond the safe bubble of campus. Getting a job and never having homework again was two months away, yet it felt like a distant reality. I thought that I was ready, but in all honesty I’m really not. The Class of 2020 lost closure in a situation that’s completely out of everyone’s hands.
While the surreality of the situation continued to increase, campus began to morph into absolute chaos. Out of frustration over the situation, students became destructive. I walked out of my house to see people destroying furniture and setting off fireworks in the townhouse quad. I understood being upset but I didn’t understand the madness.
I really had no idea how to feel. At some points I denied it and at others I was extremely frustrated and angry. I understood the whys, but I still felt on edge. No one really knows what’s going on at the moment. I sat in my Thursday morning class unsure if this was going to be the last time I’d be in a college classroom and checked out packages in the mail center Friday afternoon questioning if this would really be my last shift. Do I say “see you later” to my boss if I’m not even sure if I’ll see him again in the foreseeable future? Why can’t I grasp any sense of control over this situation?
On Saturday morning, I packed up my car. I stared back at my townhouse, questioning if the next time I’d see it I’d be collecting the rest of my belongings. As I drove away from campus, onto the dreary journey through the North Country and I-89, I felt numb. And right now, typing away at this post at home, I feel as though someone ripped out the pages in the last chapter of my college life. It’s a strange feeling knowing that my time at St. Lawrence was cut short. Will my graduation be in my backyard? Who knows. Uncertainty can be terrifying and not easy to overcome, but what I do know is comforting is that we are all in this together.
So… wash your hands, check in on the ones you love, practice some self-care, and be grateful for all the moments that we got to have St. Lawrence, big and small.