N
o one ever reads on Reading Day. Instead, they end up eating cookies and sledding. And the people who do try to study, like me, hate themselves for not having fun. I always end up locked in Kendall Hall staring at a wall, torturing myself about “Othello.” A devil appears on my shoulder, beckoning me to go outside and frolic in the snow, but this frumpy angel on the other shoulder says to stay in and get ahead in my classes. I’m stuck in Purgatory, agonizing all day over whether I made the right decision to stay inside and not have fun.
And what about Monday classes? It messes up all of my seminars, which conveniently meet only on Mondays. How am I supposed to make up a week’s worth of piano, voice, and Greek because of someone’s bright idea to cancel class in the middle of February?
I know people love Reading Day because it extends their weekend. But then that just makes Tuesday more unpleasant. I agree with what my professors say about the topic. Come Tuesday, the students will have forgotten where their classes meet and how to read. The whole week will devolve into a groggy, stumbling, mumbling weekend. The next thing you know, students will demand the right to long weekends every weekend so they can “study” and “get ahead.”
I mainly just don’t like it when people have fun without me. My excuse is usually that there were too many parties, so I couldn’t make it to all of them, but actually I avoid them all zealously as a protest against this progressive, concessive phenomenon. Are we, the youth, really so frail that we need periodic times of recuperation? Either come to school to work, or go home.
Fall semester Reading Day is dumb, too. Who wants to have finals on a Saturday? Well, I guess that’s okay. At least you’re not having fun.
