Alexandra Hill ’28 is a prospective English major and creative writing minor. She does research at the IIC Conservation GIS lab and is a member of Vox. When she’s not submitting her columns late, you can find her yapping, daydreaming or dancing really badly. Contact her at abhill@wm.edu.
The views expressed in the article are the author’s own.
I’m bound to a chair suspended over a pit of alligators. Hungry alligators, I might add. They gnash their teeth and tumble over one another in their attempts to snap me in two. One leaps up and just misses my ankles. I struggle with all my might, but I am unable to free myself. Finally, I slump in defeat, muttering my last words: “Tell the Sadler ice cream machine I love it!”
Yes, this is my certified real life. No, I am not Indiana Jones. Yes, dear reader, this is me describing the experience of looking at my to-do list.
Oh, the horror! We’re at about the time of year where the decision between dangling over a hoard of starving alligators and writing that essay for a philosophy class requires some thinking. Sometimes, a week arrives where it feels like we are perpetually stuck at the climax of an adventure movie, and we’re all wondering when the deus ex machina will arrive (e.g. “Aha! I knew I remembered to apply my alligator repellent today!”)
Well, this is your deus ex machina. I bring you … “Alex’s Guide to Fighting Alligators!”
No? My editors shot that down on the basis of my lack of credibility? Well, what about … “How to Navigate a Stressful Week”? Much better.
Step One: Count the alligators.
Sometimes, when I know I have a lot to do, I basically just cover my eyes and say to my deadlines, “If I can’t see you, you can’t see me!” Cue: scrolling on YouTube Shorts (the shame!), a sudden urge to learn how to do the worm, and the curation (for hours on end) of the perfect study playlist.
This is a surefire way to get eaten by the alligators. Newsflash: they do see you. So, it’s time to know what you’re facing.
This is where I get out a piece of paper. Yes, like an old school, your-grandparents-use-this-sort-of-thing piece of paper. None of that ChatGPT nonsense. And I write out everything I need to do.
Everything. EVERYTHING — including deadlines. This list sometimes reminds me of those cartoons where a squire unrolls a scroll and it keeps going and going and going …
Good news: This list has an end. There is no such thing as infinite alligators. There’s only like … six or seven. Okay, maybe more than that.
Step Two: Decide on your non-negotiables.
I’ve seen you nerds studying at 3 a.m., running on three days straight of saltines and Celsius. This is unacceptable behavior! Let us please have some semblance of health and happiness on this campus.
It is true that on your most packed weeks you might not be going to a 5 a.m. pilates class everyday, refreshed by your homemade green smoothie, showing up to your 8 a.m. lecture all like, “What, you guys just woke up?” However, I like to decide on some non-negotiables during even the most stressful weeks — little things that will keep me from feeling like a hungover zombie. They don’t have to take very much time, but they are important.
This might look different for you, but my list is: eight hours of sleep (or else I will become the monster from “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark,” a PG-13 movie so terrifying I could not finish it), three meals a day with some semblance of fruits and veggies and moving around (even if it’s just a short walk or dance break). I promise myself I will do these things even if I have five unstarted essays due at 11:59 p.m., no extensions. I will choose sleep over turning in an assignment every time.
Your non-negotiables will save you. The alligators are very, very afraid of your non-negotiables.
Step Three: You don’t have enough time! (Or: Kill the alligators.)
On an existential level, we are working on a limited timeline. As it applies to this article, this limited timeline means you might not have time to do everything you need to do.
Yes, twamps, it’s true. Say it with me again: you might not have time to do everything you need to do. And that’s perfectly fine.
Take a look at your Everything List, and with complete and brutal honesty, evaluate each task’s importance and immediacy (I borrow from the Eisenhower Matrix here.) Much of it can be pushed to a less stressful week or eliminated from your plate entirely.
A controversial note: On your busiest weeks, your readings probably become optional. If you have a professor who goes over all the content in the textbook, maybe that’s a metaphorical alligator that you can get rid of. Take a step back in discussions this week, if that’s what the readings are used for in another class. Maybe a skim will suffice. If you need to, you can take time to catch up later on. You know your professors better than I do, so use your twamp-y discretion here.
Look at all the alligators you’ve slayed! Wonderful work. But … oh dear … those remaining gators look pretty large and frightening. Good thing Alex has an alligator shrink ray up her sleeve.
Step Four: Shrink those alligators.
Even though your Everything List is more petite than it once was, a couple of those to-dos still look pretty fierce. For example, the task “write that essay” does not sound fun. So, we’re gonna hit it with the shrink ray, so it turns into something along the lines of brainstorm, find sources, outline, revise outline, write thesis, write first page, etc. You can spread these mini tasks out as time allows, giving them intermittent deadlines.
So you’ve created a bunch of mini alligators. Hey, they’re actually kind of cute!
Step Five: Face the alligators.
Depending on your approach to studying/work, this might resemble chatting kindly to each of them and convincing them that you are in fact not food, or it might be all out war. Either way, you are prepared. You can do this!
Remember to take breaks, take care of yourself and rest lots. When I’m especially stressed, I like to be strict about my breaks — I save this time for things that actually boost my mood and energy (aka no YouTube Shorts!) I like a refreshing walk/stretch, a snack, a chat with friends or journaling time to refuel. You can’t face the alligators when your battery is at 0%!
On that note, when I feel like I can’t possibly focus, I accept that. I know simply “pushing through” my lecture slides will not make my mind clearer, nor will it be effective studying. Lack of focus is a clear sign I need a break, so I take one. I come back to my work when I feel I can give it my attention. (Thank you to the incredible friend who helped me realize how important this is — you know who you are!)
Finally, don’t be afraid to use the amazing resources on campus. You might feel you need something as simple as a yoga class at the Wellness Center to destress. Or, you might want to talk through your stress with a therapist at the Counseling Center or on TimelyCare (free resources for students!) The TutorZone and Writing Center can help you with that midterm and paper. Talking to Student Accessibility Services and getting extensions from professors can also be very helpful.
The College of William and Mary is incredibly academically challenging. It’s a place where mile-long to-do lists are not unusual. I’ve noticed that, as a campus, we tend to associate the pressures of school, work and life with an inevitable tradeoff in mental and physical well-being. I hope this article shows you that you can protect your happiness and health even during busy times. You can’t do everything perfectly, so you don’t have to place that expectation on yourself. Bonus: Creating just a little more balance in your life shifts the culture around stress at this institution as a whole. Not only is balance fantastic for you, it inspires others to prioritize their wellness, too!
I know you are still on the edge of your seat about my earlier cliffhanger (with the chair and the alligators, remember?) so I’ll finish with that.
My chair drops suddenly and sharply several feet. I notice the rope holding me above the scaly predators is fraying rapidly, now only connected by a few strings. As if plucked by a violinist, these strings break, one by one. With a scream — “SADLER ICE CREAMMMMM!” — I plunge into the water, full of crashing alligators. I close my eyes waiting to be eaten.
“Why do you look so afraid?” one of them says.
I open a single eye. “Aren’t you going to eat me?”
“Ew, no way,” the alligator replies. “We’re vegetarian.”
