Dining Hall — Last Tuesday night at 11:45 p.m., a group of seniors shared their misguided assumptions with Avocado reporters, asserting that Wandering has offered manifold benefits to their physical and emotional well-being since classes began two weeks ago. “It keeps me wholesome and balanced,” claimed a senior as he shoveled Cinnamon Toast Crunch into his fourth bowl that night, ingesting a week-long allowance of sugar in one sitting. “Look,” commented another senior. “Would you miss out on administration sanctioned sleep deprivation? Come on!”
Wandering, a privilege granted exclusively to seniors, offers students the opportunity to hijack their own sleep cycles. “I think, it’s a great way to forget about my worries,” maintained one senior, adding that the power to shirk academic obligations for cereal at arbitrary hours in the night “is so lit.” For many seniors, Wandering is a spurious symbol of liberty and adulthood— the sole time where wilfully dismantling mental stability is socially acceptable.
Faculty members, who often shoulder Wandering’s impact during low-energy classes, have highlighted the privilege’s downsides. “Seniors are the embodiment of passivity,” said a member of the History Department. “After late nights, they’re practically zombies.”
Despite Olympus’s attempts to curb Wandering’s effects through trivial emails, seniors have marshaled against administrative opposition. One upperclassman defended Wandering as “a great occasion to develop caffeine dependency.” Another suggested it to be a reprieve from academic pressures: “If I can relieve stress by funneling my unbridled rage towards the troll that eats all the marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms, I’m happy.”