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We’ve All Been There: Spring (Not So) Break

There are only 4 days (well, more like 3 days, 22 hours and 12 minutes) until your flight takes off for Cancun. You’ve got 6 lectures and 2 discussion sections between you and the smell of SPF 30/sweet, sweet freedom, but your brain has been checked out for days.

While your professor drones on and on about about the feminist’s criticism of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” you’re having a mid-day dream about strawberry daiquiris and that adorable new tankini you just picked up at Target. Instead of taking notes in History of the Civil War, you work on your packing list, adding necessities like “dangly earrings,” “push-up bra,” and “Listerine bottle full of Absolut.” And when you should be in the library brushing up on Physics, you’re off at the campus drug store stocking up on tanning oil (and aloe for when said tanning oil inevitably fails…3 hours into the trip).

And you’re not the only one. Come on, it’s SPRING BREAK. It’s been months since your last break from school and between midterms and the gloomy, gray weeks, every student on campus has been on a mental vacation for days. And that would be fine with everyone if it weren’t for that hard ass professor who always likes to prove a point. The eternal party pooper who returns home to his 12 cats every night and can’t handle the idea of college students having fun.

The professor who interrupts you as you’re busy building the perfect Spring Break playlist during class to, what else, assign a giant reading assignment with a 3-page reaction paper due the day you return from your trip.

Awesome. Wonderful.
Thanks a lot, Sir Fun Sucker.

First you grumble. Then you bitch about it on Facebook. Then you grumble some more. Then, after someone else in your class gets an embarrassingly long lecture for having the audacity to “use Spring Break as an excuse to stop learning or forget why you’re in college in the first place,” you thank god you were too busy updating your Facebook status to raise your hand to make the exact same argument first. Then you go home, bitch about it to your friends, and spend the next 45 minutes trying to figure out a way to squeeze your stupid textbook into your suitcase that is already 6 pounds over the airline’s weight limit.

You calculate your grade in the class to see if you can skip the assignment without totally bombing the course, then curse your teacher some more when you realize you can’t. So you suck it up, throw that stupid text book into your carry-on and pray to god you have at least an hour of sober time to get the reading done before you’re forced back to reality.

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Yup, we’ve all been there. Unfortunately, there are disgruntled professors like this on every campus. So much for Spring “Break,” right?

  • When my mom moved me into my dorm freshman year she left me $65 to buy a humidifier. I took that money and bought a pair of heels because I can sleep without damp air blowing in my face, but I can't rock a humidifier with a hot black mini.