You know what really grinds my gears? It’s the frequent mentioning in the media, on the Internet, social networks, etc. of the importance of making time to work out. They say there's no such thing as not having enough time to do something active, get out and get moving. While I'm all for cute, inspirational, motivating messages, to me that isn't one. On the contrary, I think it could be a detrimental message.
At about this time every year, I despair. I start to wonder how I am going to finish what seems to be a never-ending list of assignments and tasks. I start to wonder why I even came to this school; I must have a masochistic streak. The stress gets to me and I find myself resisting the urge to RSVP to a number of preposterous Facebook events (Dropping out of school to become a potato is a viable life decision, right? RIGHT??)To make matters worse, the rest of the world does not seem to have gotten my memo. Don't they know that I, along with all of UofT, am a big puddle of exam nerves? All I do is wake up, go to Robarts, go to class, return to Robarts, go home, and sleep! I am not feeling the Holiday cheer. Yet, everywhere I go, I hear sickeningly joyous holiday tunes, everything is pretty and sparkly and lit up, and there are tons of amazing events going on. Why is all of Toronto rubbing its holiday cheer in my face? I feel personally victimized by all this hollying and jollying and carrying on.The cheer is even invading my own apartment!I know what you're thinking; this girl is a classic Scrooge. You may be right. I'll have you know, however, that I have been trying to embrace the spirit of the season. Last night, I went to Christmas High Table at Trinity College. Despite my best protestations—"I have too much work to do," "I hate carolling," "I don't like cranberry sauce"—my roommates would not take no for an answer and they dragged me along.
This past week, as I found myself staring at the textbook that I haven’t bothered to open in weeks, and looking at the rubric for an essay I really didn’t want to write, a little bird whispered something in my ear. What did that little bird say you ask? “Drop the course”.
I tried to ignore it, but the thought of dropping kept pushing itself to the front of my mind. Sure, I could push myself to catch up on weeks of lectures and readings, and take time away from the projects I was truly passionate about to smash out an essay that I wouldn’t be proud of. After talking it through with a few friends, as well as an academic advisor, I made the decision to drop the class, as in the long run it would be better for my GPA and far better for my mental health.
In the hopes of easing the stress that comes with dropping a class, I’ve written up what I learned from my experience dropping a class with less than a month left in the semester.
Last week, as I found myself staring at the textbook that I haven’t bothered to open in weeks, and looking at the rubric for an essay I really didn’t want to write, a little bird whispered something in my ear. What did that little bird say you ask? “Drop the course”.My internal monologue last week (credit: dontworrybecolorful.tumblr.com)I tried to ignore it, but the thought of dropping kept pushing itself to the front of my mind. Sure, I could push myself to catch up on weeks of lectures and readings, and take time away from the projects I was truly passionate about to smash out an essay that I wouldn’t be proud of. But after talking it through with a few friends, as well as an academic advisor, I made the decision to drop the class, as in the long run it would be better for my GPA and far better for my mental health. In the hopes of easing the stress that comes with dropping a class, I’ve written up what I learned from my experience dropping a class with less than a month left in the semester.
