Here comes the sun

You will not believe how much work I have—way more than you, I’m sure. I have a thesis draft, and a midterm, and a 10-page paper, but it’s in Spanish, so that counts double, and…wait, what’s that pleasant warm feeling on my face? That blinding brightness in the sky? Why do I find myself humming “Here Comes the Sun”?

Yes, in the words of George Harrison, after a “long cold lonely winter … the ice is slowly melting.” (I’ll omit the “little darlings” for propriety’s sake—springtime doesn’t excuse harassment). As the sun returns, we emerge from our dens in Butler, blearily rubbing our eyes as if waking from a dream about the dismal months of schoolwork and the additional tasks of complaining about and competing over said schoolwork. After all, before you spend five hours on a paper, you must also spend five hours explaining to your friends just how much more difficult your assignment is than any of their pathetic excuses for work. While others might try to reduce stress from schoolwork, we do the opposite, relishing and magnifying it.

We take pride in our stress, and like proud parents, we brag about its progress in person and online. Many of my Facebook friends have posted their weekly schedules on their profiles, proving to the world that they’re taking 21 credits, participating in an extracurricular activity every day, holding down a work-study job, and still finding time to volunteer in an orphanage on the weekend. I never know how to react to such postings: “I’m sorry,” “Congratulations,” or “It’s a hard-knock life”? Beyond sympathy, the Facebook posters crave recognition of just how difficult and stressful their semesters have been—or, more accurately, just how difficult and stressful they have made their own semesters.

We attend an elite university in the greatest city in the world (if David Letterman’s opinion is to be trusted on this point). As one of my professors noted during the height of midterms, “You aren’t incarcerated! What do you have to complain about?” Unlike my professor, I do recognize that academic work can be stressful, even if we’re not doing it from prison. But must we compete with each other to see whose life is the most stressful and who can be the most miserable? At her most recent fireside chat, Barnard President Debora Spar touched on this phenomenon, saying, “It feels a little bit like status comes from being really busy.” To guarantee the high status and admiration associated with that “really busy” label, it’s not sufficient to take too many classes and participate in too many activities. You also have to broadcast how busy you are, proving to classmates that your life is the hardest, so you are deserving of some kind of honor.

The power of this culture of stress seems to grow throughout the winter months, hitting a peak around spring semester midterms. It’s gray, slushy, and disgusting, and the entire campus has come down with a really bitter case of seasonal affective disorder. And then, one day, the sun peeks out. We might as well be Teletubbies—the baby-faced sun rises and giggles, and we all rush out of our dark cubbyholes to greet it. For a moment, work is forgotten. Footballs, baseballs, and frisbees fly through the air, the song of the Mr. Softee truck rings through the neighborhood, and the steps finally serve a purpose beyond providing that victorious Rocky feeling. It’s a glorious respite, but a short-lived one.

Soon, someone says, “Of course the good weather comes when I have all this work to do!” and the complainer retreats to the library with a new sense of superiority: Who the hell are these people who can just lounge on the steps or in the park? Don’t they have work to do? For the dedicated adherents to the culture of stress, working despite the warm weather becomes an additional point of pride.

But, if you’re winning by being the most stressed out, are you really winning at all? Yes, it’s important to value academic work. That is, after all, why we’re in college (or at least why we tell our parents we’re in college). But we’re also in college to wait out the awkward transition between childhood and adulthood, to learn how to balance and how to function on our own. Stress over academics and extracurriculars at the expense of enjoying day-to-day life and the coming of spring cannot be healthy. Beyond the inevitable vitamin D deficiency, such an attitude takes all the joy out of learning and working and can make you—and everyone who must listen to your complaints—miserable.

So, unless you’re Robert Pattinson (in which case, sparkle on!), I suggest you slowly step away from Butler. I’m not advocating slacking off completely—I’m merely suggesting that pride should not be staked on who has the least amount of time to enjoy the sun.

Anna Arons is a Barnard College senior majoring in urban studies. Two cents and sensibility runs alternate Wednesdays.