Please stop coming to class

Seriously, I’m begging

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Someone standing in front of a bulletin board in a crowded hallway
ILLUSTRATION: Alyssa Umbal / The Peak

By: Sude Guvendik, Staff Writer

Okay, it’s been a week; please stop being on campus all at the same time. 

Ah, the start of a new semester! There’s nothing quite like the buzz of activity in the AQ. Well, actually, there’s nothing quite like the absence of that buzz. Suppose you had plans to revolutionize your academic life this semester by religiously attending classes and making the library your second home. In that case, I’m here to tell you it might be time to throw in the towel. The architectural marvel that is the Burnaby campus is simply not big enough for all of us.

SFU Burnaby is where we expand our minds, exchange a few awkward pleasantries with classmates we only vaguely recognize, and, of course, spend an obscene amount of time searching for a parking spot or waiting for 145. It is also a place that was clearly designed for a game of sardines rather than for serious studying. 

So, my friend, let’s chat about the possibility of you packing up your backpack and heading home. And while you’re at it, don’t forget to grab your hater hat to ward off unsuspecting study buddies.

Just imagine: the AQ — that bustling heart of campus life. Or at least, it used to be before the stampede of students turned it into something resembling a beehive on caffeine. As for the SUB, good luck finding a seat in there without resorting to bribes, tears, or possibly ninja-like manoeuvring skills. I know you had lofty ambitions of embodying academic dedication this semester, but let’s face it: these spaces were not designed for us all to be shoulder-to-shoulder, battling it out for elbow room.

Finding an empty seat in the AQ feels like discovering a unicorn casually sipping tea. If you’re tired of dodging backpacks and giving impromptu speeches on why your elbow should be granted a seat, it’s time to say goodbye to the land of musical chairs. Sure, you might miss the thrill of competing with raccoons for a coveted spot, but let’s face it: no one needs a classroom rivalry that involves foraging for crumbs and comparing the size of your backpack to determine dominance.

So, here’s the deal: consider the alternative. How about embracing online learning with open arms? Picture this: no more alarm-clock battles, no more perilous treks through the labyrinth of parking lots, and certainly no more contorting yourself into a human pretzel to access a power outlet. Plus, you get to attend lectures while rocking your most comfortable pyjamas — a win-win situation if you ask me.

Now, before you label me as the harbinger of doom for the on-campus experience, let’s take a moment to remember the positives. Opting for a quieter campus doesn’t mean surrendering your student status; it just means you’re a master of efficiency, a maestro of minimalism, and a virtuoso of versatility.

You’re not shying away from academic challenges — you’re embracing them in the coziest way possible, swaddled in your favourite blanket.

So, here’s to you, fearless student. Here’s to a campus where you can actually hear your own thoughts instead of a noisy crowd and where the library chairs sigh in relief as they escape the perpetual siege. 

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