Saying “I’m dropping this class” every week, and never doing it.
SAYING “I’M DROPPING THIS CLASS” EVERY WEEK, AND NEVER DOING IT.
Follow for more relatable Ivy moments!
We’ve all been there. It’s Tuesday, 3 AM, and you’re staring at a problem set that feels like a foreign language. The thought flashes: 'I'm dropping this class.' It's not just a thought; it's a declaration, a survival instinct kicking in. This week, it’s definitely happening. Next week, same story, different class, same declaration. Yet, somehow, the course remains on your schedule.
Why? Is it the sheer stubbornness that got us here? The fear of the W on the transcript? Or maybe, just maybe, it's the faint, irrational belief that we can actually catch up, conquer the material, and ace that final? It's the unique blend of self-doubt and unshakeable resilience that defines this journey. You articulate your plan to drop to your roommate, who nods knowingly because they were just planning the exact same thing for their organic chemistry.
This isn't just about academic pressure; it's about the unique crucible we navigate. It's the ritualistic contemplation of surrender, immediately followed by an almost masochistic commitment to push through. It’s a secret handshake, an unspoken pact among us. You don't explain this particular brand of stress to anyone else; they just wouldn't get the specific gravitational pull of an Ivy League syllabus. It’s our shared, slightly unhinged, truth. We say it, we feel it, we never do it. And somehow, we thrive.