I am slacking.
I’ve become one of those people I used to surreptitiously glare at–those people who surf Facebook in class, write personal letters, and sneak forbidden food into a hallowed classroom. As a freshman, I was painfully fastidious about such things.
This is my fifth year. The pendulum has swung. Suddenly, there’s a shiny ring on my left hand. I have work, community service, various responsibilities, and Greek tragedy on my mind, a Les Mis song stuck in my head, and a coffee buzz that’s making it difficult to sit still.
The bell for my 12 p.m. class rang seven minutes ago, and I’m only half-listening to the professor of a very large lecture class talk about dropped quizzes.
Someone at the end of my row just passed me a handful of M&M’s, and a little later, a tin of Altoids made its way around (sufferers of 12 p.m. classes unite!).
I’ve got my screen dimmed as low as possible to
decrease the chances of nosy individuals noticing my class-unrelated activity conserve my battery, and I’m typing 457 words per minute to take lecture notes update my blog.
I feel like a horrible student.
I’ve learned that it’s possible to (a.) take thorough notes while (b.) capitalizing on a speaker’s digressions to (c.) go on a mental vacation.
I feel like Dug from the movie “Up,” shouting out “SQUIRREL!!!” at seemingly random (but meaningful to me!) intervals. Oooh, look, the guy four rows up finally got a haircut. Oooh, I need to mail that letter that I wrote last week…
Oooh. Is there a quiz in the next class period? Oooh… the bell is going to ring in 37 minutes, and I can go get lunch.
I have a countdown app on my phone–64 days until graduation. I think I shall go attempt to be responsible now, and savor this one of my 64 last days in academia.