After Boston College football pulled out an exciting, well-fought victory against Syracuse, about a quarter of the BC student section finally trickled out of their place in Alumni Stadium. Where were the rest? Already gone, and had been gone for a while. Those empty stands were antithetical to the turnout at the previous night’s hockey game against Maine, featuring a line wrapping around the back of Conte Forum and a student section that was full and rowdy until the very end of the game.
Stop whatever you’re doing—we are in a crisis. America has a housing crisis. The Western world has a well-documented mental health crisis. Microplastics are creating a new physical health crisis.
“Welcome to Milwaukee, The Bloody Mary Capital of the World” greets me like a familiar hug each time I arrive at General Mitchell Airport in Milwaukee. Green Bay Packers paraphernalia, Cheeseheads, and Drink Wisconsinbly shirts adorn the vendor stations lining the central walkway to baggage claim.
Two summers ago, I had one of the best nights of college I can recall. My buddy Seamus and I were invited to our friend’s 21st birthday party. And—full disclosure—we were the James Michael Tylers of the cast of Friends. We knew it and our friend knew it. We were the outside crew. But, knowing where we stood, we agreed it could be fun, so why not go?
Boston College track and field has been on a generational run. But somehow, nobody knows about it. On a campus with a fan culture dominated by revenue sports like football, basketball, and hockey, it’s unsurprising that track and field has been excluded from the hype.
It’s hard not to feel cynical in 2024, as digital alerts about climate change and wars and migrants and mental illness all pump into our brains like water against an unstable dam. Amid this doom and gloom, we ought to acknowledge we do not live in the “the Darkest Timeline,” as joked about by the cult classic NBC sitcom Community.
I have read The Hobbit so many times that I lost count of the rereads sometime around eighth grade. Even though I never use this as my fun-fact icebreaker (for fear of coming off a bit too nerdy a bit too soon), it is without a doubt my favorite truth about myself.
On the other hand, I merely wanted a weekend away from campus and an excuse not to study. I didn’t see the point in discussing personal issues with people I’d just met and seeing how the saddest moments in my life stacked up against others’.
3 p.m. on a Monday marked my first ever class at Boston College, and as it turns out, the same went for professor Maria Bejan. She stood before nearly 300 eager students in her smart pants, boots, and statement necklace, introduced herself with a smile, and dove headfirst into her Principles of Economics course. Huddled in my second-row seat, I felt a wave of admiration and sympathy for my new teacher.
I have always thought of myself as a decent student. While I was certainly never the girl with color-coded notes, assignment spreadsheets, or pre-planned study schedules, I knew how to work hard. I was intimately familiar with my own capabilities, and I knew that I could walk away with a grade that I was happy with if I applied enough effort when necessary. And for all intents and purposes, this system worked well … for high-school me.
