Remember when you were so young and naive way back in September? From eager freshmen with pristine 4.0s to aged seniors who saw this coming, did you not all have that small inkling of hope in your hearts that this would be our year? Who were we kidding? 2016 was no one’s year. We’re in the thick of it, kids. It’s time to give up your study spot and pick a secluded place to cry instead (suggestions: the fourth floor at Mugar, the alley behind Warren, or the office hours of that lame professor no one goes to see- he probably stopped bothering to show up to his own office). Prepare for what’s to come with the 5 stages of grieving for your GPA:
This is where we’ve been for weeks, hasn’t it? There’s still time. A 1.23 is the goal really-1,2,3 all in order… that has to be a talent, right? No one has to know. Really, you could hack the entire system and bring it down, or hack Student Link in an attempt to bring it up What is a GPA, really? A Gruesome Painful Absurdity? Really, you’re making a political statement about the education system. Now, you just have to convince those footing your tuition bills…
Throw your peppermint mocha onto that BU seal. Embrace the rage bubbling inside of you! Run down Commonwealth screaming about “the system.” Form a mob. Light the torches. Steal all the Boston Terriers. Scribble random numbers on the wall. Post your professors’ mugshots on WANTED signs. Stage a walkout from the class you already aren’t attending. These are not suggestions but obligations to move on to our next stage.
You say to yourself, I still got that week. Time to email all your TF’s begging for help (read: miracle). Time to show up to that discussion you’ve been skipping like it’s your job. Time to figure out your professor’s Starbucks order by stalking them at the GSU and show up with it at their house. When they don’t answer the door, keep knocking — they probably just can’t hear you over their evil laughter whilst grading papers. Lay on their stoop until they find you in the morning with wild eyes, foaming at the mouth, and mumbling about extra credit opportunities.
This is the moment you realize there’s no hope left. This is when you give up and go into a Netflix coma (read: heaven). So what if you don’t know where England is? You know all the characters and their backstories and their constantly changing love interests in Downton Abbey (which is way more impressive honestly). Besides, you know where NEW England is, and new is always better. So what if you don’t know how to build a profitable business and are ill prepared for your final presentations in Questrom? You know every prank Jim has ever pulled on Dwight while still somehow being a successful salesman and keeping his job and life. It’s okay – Netflix will always love you and wonder if you’re still watching.
It’s almost Christmas, time to cuddle with your pets (unless you have a fish, then this is not recommended), time to drink hot cocoa while wearing fuzzy socks you bought at City Target with your last dollars. You feel in your heart that no number could ever define your worth as a person: not your GPA, your weight, your murder victims, your followers on Twitter — you’re more than all of that. Just know: everyone else has also been personally victimized by their GPAs. Stay strong, Terriers.