My senior year at Temple
University was going
swimmingly. It was the
beginning of March, I was drinking
wine in my apartment and
pulling my hair out as I tried to
complete agonizing group projects
– business as usual. The lingering
thoughts of graduation frequented
my mind, reminding me to be
grateful and appreciate these last
few short months. Spring break approached.
I spent it in Charleston,
South Carolina for a long weekend,
a last hoorah with a friend who
attends the College of Charleston.
As the date of the trip approached,
news about how the coronavirus
was quickly sweeping the globe. I
traveled south, and after a few days
in sunny downtown Chucktown,
it was back to reality, so back to
Philly.
University after university
began transitioning to online classes
due to the pandemic. (Cue my
thumb feverishly refreshing my inbox,
awaiting the email that would
force me back to New Jersey and disrupt the last weeks of college I had left.)
Despite the disruption, I was relieved to know that the colleges were work-
stating that we will be transitioning to all online courses beginning March
16. I naively (or maybe in denial) packed a few things, thinking I’d be back
in Philly in the next two or three weeks, unbeknownst to me I wouldn’t be
completing my senior year in the City of Brotherly Love .
I am now back home in New Jersey with my parents, brother, sister
and two dogs. In my house, the news is on in a constant loop, adding to the
situational anxiety many of us are feeling. If I had a dollar everytime the
words “pandemic,” “wash your hands,” “social distance” and “coronavirus”
-
rona” only prompted thoughts of that beer that you’d sip on at the beach?
Now, hearing the word gives way to a sense of panic, as a bottle of Lysol is
whipped out of my back pocket.
If the word “Zoom” is also a trigger for you, as it has become for me, I’m
so sorry. Zoom is a video communication software, which is now where all of
my learning takes place. Each week day, I get ready for class. I get dressed,
slip on my shoes and my backpack. I then take my mind-numbingly long
commute of one grueling step to my desk. I open my laptop to be greeted
with a 13-inch screen meant to act as replacement to my once-engaged
and communal classroom experience. Here’s a short play-by-play of how a
Zoom class goes for the majority of my courses: Professor gets frustrated
at Zoom, students try to help, professor gets frustrated again because the
26 MAY 2020 | TheJournalNJ.com
BY JULIA MORTIMER
audio isn’t cooperating, professor attempts to begin the lecture, but here’s
the catch. The audio cuts out so I hear the beginning of his thought and one
Zoom lectures have become a frustrating and less-than-humorous version of
such times. A message to the teachers and professors: thank you so much for
your efforts and patience.
Thankfully, between classes and the news, I had been distracted from
thinking about spring semester being cut short and graduation being postponed.
When reality hit that graduation and going back to Philly wasn’t
in the cards, feelings of uncertainty became prevalent. It suddenly felt as
though I was reading an amazing book, the type of book that when you
reach the end, nostalgia blankets your thoughts. Reaching the end means
parting ways with the story and the characters. You have to leave that world
that you’ve grown so comfortable in.
So you’re reading said book, approaching the end. You’re cozied up
in bed soaking up each word of the last chapter. Someone stomps in and
aggressively grabs your book. Said devilish person stares you in the eye, as
they tear that last chapter out and widely rips it apart. You’re heartbroken for
I wallowed in self-pity for a moment, maybe more than a moment, but
peace within each other.
/TheJournalNJ.com