I’ll be honest: what I’m about to talk about may truly be a niche issue, but I don’t care. I transferred here from my local community college last year, and I have been thoroughly disappointed. The faculty is generally amazing; the groundskeepers and other workers are great; the student body is pretty good. The administration…well, I’ll let others here tell you about that. No, my real gripe is with the lack of some basic niceties.
Why are the water fountains not on? Covid? Covid is over; we’ve moved on. Sanitation? Nobody has to drink from them if they don’t want to. Cost? We all know what tuition costs around here. So why? Why can I not take a refreshing, if slightly metallic, swig of germ-infested water to quench my thirst? Where is the last resort for those with dry throats, coughs, or general thirst? Do we not remember the good old days of lining up for a valuable four seconds of wonderfully cold water after the PACER test? Perhaps I am undermining my point, but it remains nonetheless. I want my water. I have a water bottle, but sometimes I forget it. In these dark, dry times, I have few options. What am I supposed to do? Am I meant to suck it up and desiccate? Do I cup my hands under the water-bottle-filler and drink like our ancestors? Do I shotgun water from a bathroom sink? Truly, I ask you, what is the solution? Those of us who are commuters know just how great the struggle can be when we forget our water bottles.
My community college had functioning water fountains everywhere. An oasis when compared to this desert.
It’s more than just the water, though. Where are the tissues? I can’t find them. Am I blind? I don’t think I’m blind, yet I can’t find them anywhere. As the days of cold and flu season come to an end, I reflect on the lack of aid we all felt in our wars on seasonal allergies. There is no excuse for the lack of tissues in classrooms. I, one of many sufferers of seasonal allergies, had to take desperate measures this winter, and so did some people I know. Ripping up paper towels to have makeshift tissues was one measure I took. I saw too many people sneezing and getting snot all over their hands and sleeves, disgusting. Most classrooms already have trashcans, so why not tissues?
My community college had tissues. My high school had tissues. Heck, I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have access to tissues in classrooms.
How about parking, am I right, people? Parking on this campus is a disaster. Never enough spaces when you need one. The constant events make it incredibly difficult to find a space whenever something is going on. There is not much more to say on this front. I’m sure we’ve all felt the pain of driving in loops some days, just hoping to finally find an open spot. Build more parking lots; I don’t care what Joni Mitchell has to say about it.
My community college had an abundance of parking. I never wanted for a space. There were many parking lots, but the crown jewel was one big, beautiful parking lot. Thousands of spaces to be had.
This place has its perks. The education is better, for the most part. The students are more engaged. The campus is beautiful, though so was the campus of my previous college. There is a lot to like. But, it also costs a lot more, and I mean a lot. When I return to school in the fall, I will be highly disappointed if my critiques are not seriously addressed; I’m not asking for miracles—just water, tissues, and parking. Maybe these are lesser issues for my non-commuter peers. Maybe I’m being a big whiner and should just move on. Or, maybe, just maybe, I am rightly indignant. Maybe these smaller issues are signs of a continual pattern of
disregarding current students. Maybe in the effort to constantly be advertising for students to come here, the college has forgotten it’s also its job to make students want to stay here. Maybe these little issues really make students feel unappreciated. Then again, maybe not. I don’t know, but feel free to tell me what you think if you see me around campus, if I can find a space that is.