Once upon a time there was a beautiful junior with a medium sized afro walking to her class in Morton. She trekked for 10 whole minutes across the treacherous campus of the College of William and Mary. She danced over the unleveled bricks on the sidewalk and dodged the engaging creativity of the twamps of Andrews Hall, as well as the sharp protractors and rulers of the mathematicians-in-training of Jones Hall.
She finally made it to the land of Morton — known for its never-ending staircase — where her class was held. Starting at the ground level, she began to climb the exhausting three flights of stairs. She skipped two steps here and there to make the ascent quicker, at times feigning interest in the bulletin board on each new floor to mask her need of a break. She also contemplated the nerve of the school to require her to climb three flights of stairs just to get to the second floor.
Once on the second floor, the homestretch was in view. The target classroom sat at the end of the hall, holding the key to her happily ever after. When this junior finally arrived in the classroom, she sat in her usual desk, exhausted and excited that her adventure of the day across campus was finally over.
Then, she heard a gasp, followed by, “Is this real?” The junior leapt out of her chair to see the notice posted on the door. There it was. The word canceled. Her class was canceled.
Next to the glorious sign, however, was a distraught student — the origin of the gasp. “He should have sent an email!” said the freshman.
The junior shook her head, agreeing about the inconvenience. She had, after all, just completed her 10-minute adventure trek across campus. An email would have saved her a lot of energy and possibly given her time to grab a quick snack.
The other student went on, suggesting that the junior “check on the professor.” The She flipped her afro and, with a questioning face, thought: “Is homegirl serious?” Slowly, the junior said that she didn’t think that was necessary, but the student insisted. Accepting this, the junior told the unsure student that she was going home.
As the junior walked down the staircase to face the treacherous campus again, she could not help but think, “Twamps need to chill out”.
In the end, her happy ending included a canceled class and a clear path across the campus, as students were either nestled warmly in their desks or checking on their professor who had canceled class. With every story there is a lesson to be learned, so here it is: accept the happy things, and avoid unnecessary stress. An unexpected cancellation should be a cause for celebration, not worry. In order to live happily ever after, like our main character, you all have to take a deep breath and just chill out.
Jillian Bates is a Confusion Corner columnist who has mastered the art of chill.