What is one of the cruelties for being on a college campus? Everyone has felt it.
Yes, it’s springtime apathy.
This paradox of sorts is comprised of two components. The first is the glorious spring weather in Baltimore: the trees are blossoming, the air is warm and our allergies are kicking in (though somehow, the loveliness of the climate seems to make up for them).
The second component is work: the majority of professors across campus seem to simultaneously arrive at the conclusion that they exist in isolation and consequently slam us hard with papers, tests, presentations and the like.
The dilemma: how ever do we find the motivation to do the work?
It’s not so hard in classes that you care about. Even if I do feel the tug of cabin fever, I don’t have a problem doing the work I’m actually interested in.
It’s the sneaky little distribution credit classes that really bite. They’re often the ones with “intro to” in the title, the ones that come along with hours of busywork, work that is hard to do to begin with when you’re being forced to take the class, but that becomes nearly impossible when spring hits. Why? Because we lose the ability to care at all.
This is even harder for seniors. Cower as I may at the thought of a bad grade, I simply cannot force myself to care about certain classes when financial independence is looming four weeks ahead.
What is it about sunshine that is the death of focus?
I’m sure there’s a biological explanation for it, but instead, I’m going to go for my favorite scapegoat and say that it’s our lack of a communal dining area.
We are without a place to socialize in the winter months; thus, when the spring comes and everyone can be out on the Beach, they jump at the chance, and all work is left behind.
There are the few noble souls who attempt to bring their work to the Beach, but in my experience that usually ends up being a colossally epic fail. Work on the Beach acts as a magnet for everyone you have ever known at Hopkins. That random kid who you used to run into on your way to the bathroom in your dorm freshman year who you were pretty sure didn’t actually go here and who you haven’t seen since freshman year suddenly appears at your elbow, ready to catch up. Which is to say nothing of the stream of randos, acquaintances, friends, teammates and fellow sun worshippers that will follow.
This is one of many reasons why Spring Fair is a good thing.
Following the generally accepted Hopkins maxim of “work hard, play hard,” we are granted one glorious weekend to play hard. A capella groups have their concerts (Mental Notes, 8 p.m., this Saturday at Bloomberg), alumni come back for the beer garden, and of course, there are trucks and trucks of food.
And now for a brief overview of Spring Fair fare: one fried oreo is enough. The chicken on a stick is enough for two people. Do not buy a mug from the guy with the homemade soda — you think it will be a really good deal, but you’ll end up forgetting it somewhere and have to buy another.
Hopefully this weekend will help all of us get some of the springtime craziness out of our systems so we can get back to doing the mounds and mounds of work we have been assigned.
Other tips include counterintuitive advice such as doing your easy work while it’s light out, and saving your harder stuff for night when it’s dark — it’s easier to concentrate on terrible things when there isn’t the temptation to go outside. Allowing for small breaks in between study sessions can also help with procrastination.
And sometimes, just embracing the desire to be outside and taking an afternoon to play in the sun can be the best thing.
Just don’t forget to wear sunblock!
