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HUMOR

A day in the life of a political science student

9 a.m. - I wake up in a cold sweat from a dream where Nancy Pelosi my demons are chasing me down a long, windowless hallway — the usual. I grab my phone and immediately open the AP News app, where I doomscroll for a good 45 minutes. Once I feel a sufficient amount of crushing hopelessness, it’s time to go to class. I live on Western Campus, so the first thing that meets me when I step out the door is the lovely stench of dead fish coming from Western pond.

When I reach the political science dungeon (Harrison Hall) I brace myself. My class is on the third floor and those stairs are brutal. I watch my feet as I climb. Left. Right. Left. Right. I’m sweating through my shirt. Left. Right. Left. Right. My calves start to burn, but this is the last flight. Left. Right. Left. Right. I hoist myself up by the banister, triumphant. I have vanquished the stairs… for today. I walk into my classroom drenched in sweat and out of breath, just like everyone else. Despite the arrival of summer in Oxford, Harrison is kept at a frigid 60 degrees. I begin to shiver. 

1 p.m. - Once class is over, I log on Instagram. My feed is a mix of alarming news coverage, friends’ posts, animal videos and The Onion. I get whiplash as I scroll: a cat is playing fetch, my friend studied abroad in Spain, immigrants are being deported without due process. Oh look, another cat video!

My grandma calls me to catch up. After a lovely chat about her book club and garden, she shifts the topic to “these darn liberals” and tells me to avoid getting indoctrinated at college. I make up an impending class I have to go to and politely excuse myself from the conversation. 

5 p.m. - I stop by the dining hall for dinner. As I eat, I scroll through the news some more. I see that another federal program I had hoped to work at in the future has been cut. I go to my notes app where I keep my list of future career options and cross off a few more. Now it looks like my only choices are… switching to a business major or becoming a West Virginian cryptid. I’ll opt for the latter. 

7 p.m. - I finally meet up with my friends. However, we’re getting to the end of internship application season, so rather than relax and unwind with them, I’m rapidly switching between applying to internships and checking my email. I refresh my email an average of seven times per minute, like a lab rat pressing the button for more cocaine. 

Midnight - When I finally get to sleep, it is fitful. Restless. Every night I wait, wondering which new apparition will visit me this time. Tonight it’s Ted Cruz. He’s reading Green Eggs and Ham at the front of a lecture hall. I can’t leave. I can’t escape. He is a filibustering senator, and I am his unwilling audience. 

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