I would like to start off by apologizing for falling asleep in last Tuesday’s lecture for Art in the Egypt of the Pharaohs. While I’m at it, allow me to offer the same apology to all the professors who had me in their classes last year. And as a precaution, I’ll just say “sorry” to all the fine educators in my future. Please understand: nodding off in your classes is not at all a reflection of how I feel about your teaching abilities or your course content. No, my bleary eyes and bobbing head are solely indicators that this particular member of the college student species is an unfit specimen, poorly adjusted for survival.

ÿI’ve said this before and it still holds true: college is a wild place in which the cruel and ruthless laws of natural selection apply with vigor. And trust me, I know all about natural selection (I was awake for that part of Environmental Studies: Biology). The strong survive, fly to the top of their grad school classes, and eventually breed to create future fabulous generations. Then there are the rest of us. Inside the pressure cooker environment that is Wash. U., we are selected against. We get tired, and we get sick. We get distracted, and spacey, and exhausted. We sometimes take our classes pass/fail. And every so often, we fall asleep while taking notes. We simply lack those desired genes that express for ideal time management, crystal clear organization, and productive decision-making. We seem doomed to suffer and wallow and doze our way through college. But this is where, I think, the term “fighting to survive” comes in nicely. I, for one, am clearly not here because I’m blessed with stellar work habits and an acute maturity; I’m here because I’m scrappy. I will struggle and fight for my seat in the front of class because to admit defeat (and go back to bed) is simply not an option.

Don’t tell me I’m blowing this out of proportion. I have a friend here who is basically perfect. I’m sure he has straight A’s. He runs, like, 8 miles a day. He works two jobs, he’s dedicated to several worthwhile causes, and he goes to bed at roughly 11 p.m. every night. He is calm and collected. He is among the strong, selected to survive and prosper. Fine. So that’s not me. Last year I thought it was my personal responsibility to be awake as long as anything social was going on, I hardly ever slept (except in class), and I sometimes melted down and ate way too much chocolate. But at least I get what’s going on here. College is war. Our bodies and minds. It’s a battle for academic survival. You fight the brave fight knowing you might take some losses. You tell yourself, hey, nobody’s perfect (except that one above mentioned kid, and a few too many like him at Wash. U.), and you try to be tough in all the places where you know you’re weak.

So I’ve figured out that I shouldn’t take too many early classes. Instead I start at 1 p.m. three days a week. And I’m bright and chipper in those classes, and a better student for it. Last Tuesday, in this lecture following an 8 a.m. class, I was getting over the flu, already maxed out on hot tea and caffeine, and rather un-chipper. And candidly, I wasn’t among the fittest to begin with. So that, professor, is why I was writing integrals in my art notes and drooling on my desk. Sorry.

Tess is a sophomore in Arts & Sciences and a Forum Editor. She can be reached via e-mail at [email protected]

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