I am currently a spring semester senior at James Madison University. For the past three years, my peers and I practically lived in Showker, the business school on campus. I worked as a writing tutor at the Student Success Center near Carrier library. Close by was a coffee shop that Austin and I would often go to and talk about our days or work on projects. After classes, I headed to my apartment, one that was about eight minutes away from campus but 20 on a bad day. My roommates and I would chat about our exams that week while we took turns making something for dinner. The best nights were the ones where we sat on the couch watching movies or playing Cards Against Humanity. If it was a Thursday, I would drive to Aspen where a townhouse full of the best people I’ve ever met lived.
Mondays and Wednesdays were packed with work and meetings, Tuesdays with class, and Thursdays and Fridays were dedicated to being with friends- no exceptions. It was a schedule that made me happy; it kept me motivated, productive, and relaxed. After four years of going through school, it felt like I was finally getting the hang of it.
My last day of class was a Thursday because, as a senior, it was my duty to make sure Friday classes were personally obsolete. Austin and I were in the same capstone and sat next to each other, talking about the things we were planning to do over Spring Break. He was going to Florida and I was going to stay home so I’d save money for my post-grad Europe trip. We were both excited to catch up after break. Before class ended, our capstone professor made an interesting remark: “You guys are not coming back after Spring Break. I hope it doesn’t come down to that, but I think it will.” Everyone pondered it for just a few moments before moving on.
The pandemic reached a scale that many didn’t anticipate. When the rest of the semester moved online, my messages were filled with condolences, sorry this and sorry that.
Sorry you have to spend your senior year online.
Sorry you won’t get a graduation.
Sorry you are the first class to experience this.
For the competing athletes out there, you missed your last game. For the performers out there, you missed your last show. For the grad students out there, you missed out on finishing your research. Especially to you all: sorry.
If I’m being completely honest, I didn’t feel that sad. I didn’t feel angry or disappointed, either. And I think maybe that’s because I’m one of the lucky ones. In my Junior year, I scored a great internship that led to a full-time offer, an opportunity many people no longer have. I got the experience to visit firms in New York City through JMU and meet an abundance of established alumni, a trip that is now postponed indefinitely. I was privileged enough to study abroad in London, something that was cut short or canceled for those supposed to go. For a long time, I felt nothing. It wasn’t until a few days before online classes were supposed to start, when I was sitting in my bed late at night, that it all hit.
In a survey, I asked seniors what they would miss the most, out of 135 responses the top three answers, in order, were: the people, the campus environment, and going out. When I asked seniors what sort of things they wish they got to do, out of 135 responses the top three answers, in order, were: graduation, spending more time with friends, and going out/socializing more. For my JMU students out there, campus crawl placed #2.
If you would like to view the results and alternative choices to the two questions, here is the link: https://forms.gle/XrU8n4SKUkPoj24a7
I don’t think I need to stress how unfortunate and terrible circumstances are for people all around the globe. It’s different for everyone. Maybe you don’t think it’s that serious or maybe you do. Maybe you’re out there sewing masks for the nurses saving lives. Maybe you’re doing your best to stay home. Maybe you’re just trying to figure out what to do next, when everything’s said and done.
Whether you’re a student or not, we’ve all lost a little something, some more than others. Sitting in bed that night, I remembered that I never got to say goodbye; to Showker, to the writing center, to that little coffee shop, to my roommates, or to my friends in Aspen. I never got to really cherish those last few moments as a senior. It’s astounding how sometimes you never know when something will happen for the last time.
In an effort to end on a positive note, keep in mind that nothing is forever. When all of this ends, I hope we all remember how we felt during these times. I hope we continue to treat each other with kindness and to show each other compassion. I hope we live life more fully and excitedly. I hope we embrace one another with more understanding and love.
And to the Class of 2020, at least we have one tremendous story to tell.
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