In response to the worldwide Coronavirus pandemic, Westmont College, like many other colleges across the nation, decided to transition to classes online for the safety of their students and faculty. With little notice, students were required to leave campus and find shelter elsewhere—including myself, a graduating senior. In my brief time at Westmont College, I’ve already watched the student body face disasters: two years ago, the Thomas Fire and subsequent debris flow in Montecito resulted in multiple campus evacuations from campus.
The 2020 pandemic is different. This time, an entire nation of students—the entire Class of 2020, especially—faces a crisis. In one of last month’s editions of The New Yorker, contributor Dan Chiasson writes on “The Coronavirus and the Ruptured Narrative of Campus Life.” According to Chiasson, the best college courses follow a narrative that echoes the change of seasons. The spring semester, for example, inherently tells a story of growth and renewal, building to “certain milestones,” such as spring break and commencement. The virus outbreak, Chiasson suggests, has disrupted the “the narrative shape” of the semester from students and faculty alike.
The Coronavirus is not just biological; it’s an outbreak of fear and disappointment. In his article, Chiasson mourns the pandemic’s abrupt ramifications on students’ lives. Students, especially seniors, have established independent lives at college; now, they must return to environments which could, in some cases, stunt personal growth or self-discovery. By their final semester, seniors are not just transitioning online from general education classes, they’re missing deep intellectual work in their specific field—work that cannot necessarily be replaced with virtual meetings to the same affect. No one is certain how long this pandemic will last. In the midst of a fever of uncertainty, Chiasson poses a question: what does the pandemic mean for the Class of 2020?
When I returned to campus to retrieve my belongings, I made sure to keep my distance from the few people I encountered. Later, sitting on the steps of the wisteria-blooming English department building, I looked out across the silent campus and mourned the loss of all the moments I would miss most: the fresh morning walk to class with a cup of coffee in my hand; reading in the shady gardens; the happy feeling of doing focused work in the classroom; the bustle of dinner in the dining commons; late-night conversations and weekend plans with friends; the camaraderie of preparing for our last traditional Spring Sing and Spring Formal, both of which were now cancelled to protect people from the virus. As a senior, leaving campus meant more than just “goodbye for now.” When I left campus, it would be for the last time as a college student.
Adjusting to this new normal will take time—but every day the pandemic unfolds, new stories of hope crack through the disappointment. In Italy, entire streets of quarantined citizens lean out of their windows and sing together to keep up morale. Online, pop artists perform free live-stream #TogetheratHome concerts. As students gather again in virtual classrooms, the sight of familiar faces remind students that even though fellow classmates are spread across the globe, they are okay. Classmates still gather together, even if they gather in a different way.
We can’t—and shouldn’t—dismiss our disappointments. We’re allowed to grieve what we’ve lost. Graduating seniors are allowed to mourn the acceleration of their semester, the abrupt end of their life on campus, the loss of what might have been. It’s not just Commencement postponed as a result of the pandemic; seniors are unable to plan their future: career fairs cancelled, post-graduation travel suspended, an economic crisis crippling the job market. The narrative of the spring semester has certainly been ruptured—or perhaps, more accurately, been diverted down an unexpected course. However, it’s noteworthy that the pandemic has forced a worldwide shutdown during Lent, of all times. This year’s Lenten season, intended for lament and mourning, is accentuated by the new narrative we’re living. Students, like the rest of the world, have been forced into a period of social distancing, dependence on those around us, and uncertainty about the future.
As I’ve returned home and begun readjusting to the “new normal” of online classes, I find that Westmont’s verse for the Class of 2020, Proverbs 19:21, brings new perspective: “Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” Though we cannot know where we’re headed, we can be sure that “in all things God works for the good of those who love him” (Romans 8:28). Though students mourn what they’ve lost, a new turn in our narrative will emerge: in the midst of our mourning come the first cracks of light. The story of winter breaking to spring.
<3 Olivia Grace
