Wikipedia defines Spoon Theory, which was created by Christine Miserandino, as the theory that those living with chronic illness or disabilities have a distinct amount of energy at their disposal per day, measured by “spoons.” They can only regain these spent “spoons” of energy by resting. Everyday activities cost different amounts of spoons, from bathing to answering emails to walking to the mailbox. Spoon Theory seeks to explain the exhaustion of having chronic illness or disability to someone who does not have the same struggles, and to give someone with chronic illness a way to put their experience into words.
But what does spoon theory have to do with college?
Many college students suffer from chronic illness, whether it be physical or mental. In many (but not all) of the cases where people I know have referred to Spoon Theory, it is in terms of their mental illnesses, the one mentioned the most often being depression. Take for example the daily activities of my hypothetical friend “Bob” on an average Monday while in college.
Bob wakes up and brushes his teeth, gets dressed, and packs his book bag for his 8 am class. These actions take up four spoons. He only has twelve for the day. Mondays are a lighter day for him, he planned it this way, so he only has two classes. However, his 8 am class is math, taking up another four spoons. That leaves him with four spoons for the rest of the day. Not only does he have to make it through his next class with these spoons, he also has to make it through lunch, dinner, homework, club activates, and possibly work, all with only four spoons. He can spend more spoons, though, he has a nice little bank of them called “Future Spoons.” These Spoons are taken from other days, though, and take much longer to recharge. But Monday is tough. He makes it through Monday by taking two “Future Spoons.”
This doesn’t mean much at first glance to most people. They would feel bad for Bob, hope he gets a nice sleep, and maybe suggest he takes a few things off of his plate. But this is college, and the things keep coming. His advisor wants him to do an internship and a full course load, and his professor assigned a surprise reading and a paper all due the next day. He keeps taking from the Future Spoon bank, day after day after day, without many chances to replenish them. By the middle of the semester, most people I have talked to who struggle with illnesses are close to crashing. They feel as though they need a year to recover from the first two months of college.
The point is, for those of us who don’t face these kinds of struggles daily, we need to take a step back and really think for a moment. Everyone – from students to teachers to administrators – should try to make an effort to understand that for a lot of people, though their illness may not look outwardly draining, day to day activities may take all of their energy. Who knows, it may be a good idea to try and reform your idea of busy college life to take into consideration those of us who can’t keep going on like this forever. Or we can keep the dropout rates for students suffering from depression at 50 percent higher than those who don’t suffer from the illness. Your choice.
