Dear 8:30 AM-2:20 PM, Monday-Friday,

First of all, hello. We’ve never met before and frankly, I never intended us to. This is the first summer I have sacrificed days of sleeping until noon and aimless mornings of library books and slowly-made scrambled eggs to an institute of higher education. Excuse me for saying it, but I wasn’t overwhelmingly excited at the prospect of our impending interactions. On the fateful May 9^th when we finally came face-to-face, I knew the next four weeks would be a mixed bag.

You should probably know that people talk about you, many with mixed reactions. Some praise your swiftness and the opportunity you provide while others condemn you as boring, impossible and poorly-structured (their words, not mine). To me, you are a necessary evil. As a double major, I commend your convenience and the integral role you play in getting me out of college in four years.

Yet, even I, an ardent admirer of your pragmatic beauty, cannot deny that I have spent many hours in your presence wishing I was anywhere but there. From scrolling through Pinterest under my desk to blatantly checking the clock at 5-minute intervals, I can be rude to you at times, but in my defense, you tend to be a bit dense, piling on overwhelming amounts of information in a short period. I understand that is the nature of your design, but you, much like the notes I take in your classes, are sometimes too much.

However, I owe you some gratitude. You’ve reminded me of the simplistic joy of a cup of coffee. Or several. Intermittently, throughout the day. Starting at 8AM. Your early morning start time necessitates in me some sort of structure or schedule, and fighting for parking on-campus that is not a 7-flight-stair dash away from my classroom is certainly building my sense of perseverance and aggression.

You’re also expanding my friend group; the eclectic strangers, 90% of whom I swear I’ve never seen on campus, and I are becoming compatriots, forming alliances of shared study guides and commiserating glances.

So, Humanities 212 and French 251, thank you. I look forward to seeing you on my transcript next year, and I will surely breathe a sigh of relief as I relive our summer fling. I will tell people that what we had was useful, while it lasted, but our mutually beneficial split was ultimately for the best. The lessons you are teaching me, whether contained in the 40-page reading assignment due tomorrow or the practice self-amusing for two and half hours every weekday, will surely come in handy when the traditional school year commences.