The reality is harsh. We do whatever we can to survive.

Admitting our status is social suicide. Whenever we’re asked what our major is, mostly we just say we’re undecided or we’re pre-whatever. Most people don’t know enough about the ways of categorizing majors to understand what we’re saying , so they just say “Oh!” like they get it.

The professors may or may not be more considerate. I’m holding down a 300-level English class and in a few weeks I’ll have it beaten into submission. The professor there, an acclaimed literary theorist, is extremely impressed at my analysis abilities and the complexity of my writing. However, last semester when I took a course at the 100-level, the professor was indignant because I had skipped the prerequisites, Comp. I and II, even though I could clearly demonstrate the material.

At our high schools, our friends may or may not accept us anymore. I have discovered that this program comes with a price, especially socially. If you are holding down a full-time courseload, you won’t have time to live a normal social life. If you do, you’ll end up sick from lack of sleep, which destroys your immune system. You’re already going to be loosing sleep by studying for massive, imposing exams.

That sassy, nearly-slutty look you’re rocking? Loose it. The people from the dorms come in collegiate-licensed sweatpants with their hair back in a messy ponytail. Since I refuse to try that look, I’m often mistaken for a business major because I prefer the conservative, professional route.

College boys? Off limits. They only want one thing, according to my mother. As I’ve learned for myself, they’ll string you along and then stab you in the back. Even when you see it coming and know to anticipate it or somehow manage to distance yourself before it implode, it still hurts you want to distance yourself from the situation.

It’s a lie to say that this alternative is always happy, but it’s also equally a lie to say that it’s always unhappy.

When you go into a class and somehow figure out how to understand the complicated ideas they’re presenting, that feeling is worth more than anything. It trumps the social awkwardness, the distance, and the uncomfortable feelings. It makes it all worth it and, in reality, that’s the reason you’re here.

And that’s the reality of being a post-secondary student.

-Everygirl

This semester I happened to be one of them.

I’m taking the first in three-course sequence of critical theory English classes offered at my college. I jumped at the opportunity to take this class, but, at my current rate, I won’t be taking any more. Reading theory is not like reading Dante or Bronte, Austen, or Shakespeare. Reading theory is like reading people who seem to have no freaking idea what they are saying but somehow their work has become famous anyways. I’ve read about people who believe women are castrated and therefore “lack”, about panopticism, and about a man who claims that the Twin Towers committed suicide on 9/11.

For the most part, I don’t believe or accept a word of it and apparently I also can’t understand or explain any of it either.

However, there is one good thing about the class.

The largest exam, even larger than the final, is take-home, which means we can look over it from the comfort of our rooms, in our pj’s, with all our notes sprawled out around us. There’s a due date and time for it as if it was a regular assignment and, going over it, it feels like a regular assignment. Just with a whole crapload of points attached to it.

On behalf of all the students out there who have intense test stress, I’d like to thank whatever infinitely merciful professor thought up the take-home exam. Grades are higher because of it.

-Everygirl