RILEY STRAW
Lampoon Editor
To Fredonia students and alumni,
When I was a freshman, I thought that college was going to be a haven for new experiences — that I’d be able to drink on the weekends for more nights than society deems “acceptable.”
When my grades slipped that first semester, I thought, “Well, I can take more classes next semester to make up for it.” When I took more classes, however, I thought, “maybe I’m just not cut out for a four-year degree.”
While I’ve loved almost every minute of being at Fredonia — except for the extraneous nights of vomiting or crying or “accidentally jumping in the downtown fountains” — I could do without an extra year.
An extra year means more sleepless nights spent with a textbook written by my professor. It means waiting in countless more Tim Horton’s lines for 30 minutes to get a coffee. It means more professors, parents and bus drivers who are disappointed in my decision-making skills — or lack thereof.
But it also means more experiences. I have another chance to find the love of my life while strolling through the sparkling meadows of Sunny’s. My very healthy relationship with Calios will not end anytime soon, and I get the opportunity to decorate a third apartment (albeit, with the same decorations I’ve used since I lived in the dorms).
This is a rallying cry. The victory lap is nothing to be embarrassed of. The victory lap is a subtle, nuanced millennial habit that only the truest of Americans get to face.
The victory lap tells people, “I took my time, like the tortoise from the storybooks I didn’t have the patience to finish reading.” It tells people, “I had fun, and I made more memories than you did.” It says, “Hey. You see the grey hairs in my beard? I earned those.”
In our society, there is a distinct rush toward completion that plagues us all. We all want to finish that Netflix show before any of our friends can. We want to be the first ones done with tests, regardless of how well we do or how precisely we fill in the bubbles on Scantrons. We want to be the first called over in a game of Red Rover. And when we’re not, we feel worthless and insulted — but most importantly, we feel unwanted.
So here’s to you, fifth-year students. Who would have thought that you get to see an entire new generation in that CCC you forgot to find time for in your schedule during your first four years? You get the opportunity to influence an entirely new graduating class on the joys of being a Fredonia student. Your impact will last longer, not because you’re particularly special or anything, but because you lasted longer.
Congratulations, fifth-year students, on being able to write as a skill on your resumes: “academic procrastination.”