A Day in the Life

Curious about how our students are adjusting to life on campus during the COVID-19 global pandemic, we reached out to senior Sydney Roach ’21, the editor-in-chief of Westminster’s student newspaper, The Holcad. Sydney stepped away from campus reporting to grab some images of campus during COVID and offer a glimpse of what a typical day looks like for her and many of our Westminster students.

Some things aren’t so different. You still wake up to the annoying blare of the alarm on your phone, only to hit that snooze button one more time (it’s never just one more time.) You still go through the motions of getting dressed, brushing your teeth and making sure you’re ready for the day. The motions are just

By SYDNEY ROACH ’21

a little different on some days. Some days you hike across the quad to class, your tired expression and inside-out T-shirt visible to everyone you pass. But this morning’s class is an easy commute—it’s only a few feet away from your bed. All you have to do is open up your computer and sign into a Zoom meeting. Nobody will know if you’re still wearing those comfy sweatpants and fuzzy socks with the cute heart shapes on them.

One hidden blessing to come from classes during the Time of Corona is the class that does not meet at all. Some professors assign work to do but still keep open office hours to help the struggling student. You never realized before how much you love the ability to go your own pace and in your own

controlled environment. It makes you wish you could start college all over again with a fresh perspective. Maybe you wouldn’t have had such a hard time with that bio class if you hadn’t had to sit still and listen to that hour-long lecture while that boy across from you constantly tapped his foot on the ground. You wonder how you will you ever go back to normal classes again.

Eventually, you find a break from the hours of staring at a screen and struggling to unmute yourself Like many students, Roach has a when the professor mini-arsenal of sanitizing product to calls on you. (Aren’t combat coronavirus, thermometers for daily self checks and over-the-counter we supposed to be cold medications if she experiences the technologically any mild symptoms. inclined generation?) You lean back into your wooden rocking chair to let out a sigh of relief. Before you can get too comfy, a growl demands your attention. It must be feeding time.

Make sure you’re not forgetting anything as you head out: Keys so that you don’t get locked out and have to make an embarrassing call to Public Safety…check. Titan Card so that you can get back into your building and swipe at Galbreath Dining five times in a row before it decides to work…check. Cell phone so that you can track how high the notification count on Outlook can get in 10 minutes…check. That should be everything.

As soon as you step out of your hallway and see another person, you are immediately met with stares, yet no gasps. Where are their mouths? Oh, of course. Masks. The “new normal” still doesn’t feel normal quite yet. One quick jog back to your dorm room to retrieve your mask (and also check your temperature…97.8…yep, you’re not internally melting today!) and you’re finally ready to go for some Westminster dining.

There are silver X marks on the sidewalk leading to the dining hall to show where you are supposed to stand in line for proper social distancing. But there is always at least one person that will creep up behind you, oblivious to you inching forward to create space.

Soon you reach the next obstacle: the card swiper in the building. You must swipe your own card now so that the employees don’t have to handle hundreds of possible bioweapons per day. It makes sense. You’re given a paper plate or a plastic container instead of a traditional plate—this gives you the option to eat in the dining hall or take your food to go AND it reduces the chance of spreading those virusrelated bioweapons. Probably not the most environmentally conscious choice, but it’s temporary. There is the option

Learning spaces, such as the campus broadcasting studio, above, and Mueller Theater and labs, below left, have all been reconfigured to promote social distancing. Spaces in labs, below right, have been outfitted with plexiglass partitions to provide physical barriers.

for the green reusable container (one of Westminster’s sustainability measures) if you ever remember to bring your $5 deposit.

Before you can sit down to finally enjoy your meal, a yellow container of Lysol wipes catches your eye. Better wipe down the table before you sit down. You wonder if you should have wiped the door handles too before you came in. How many handles did you even touch on your way here? How many other people have touched those handles? When was the last time those people washed their hands? When was the last time you washed YOUR hands and for at least 20 seconds? That familiar growl shakes you back into the present before you can spiral too deeply. After wiping down the table and evading the rope blocking off the one booth

seat, you set your plate down on top of the “Only 1 person per table” sign. You had a lot of great conversations with friends at this exact table around this time last year. Some of them graduated last semester (without a proper goodbye thanks to COVID-19 closing the campus) or opted for virtual learning this semester, leaving you alone with your thoughts and mashed potato bowl. Time to dig in.

Normally you would have to shove dinner down your throat in record time to make it to your part-time job. Now you just have to open your laptop in the comfort of your own room and make the occasional phone or Zoom call. While you do miss the face-toface interaction and the more hands-on work, it is pretty nice to not have to rush your day because of a commute. Another blessing—there are even more internships and conferences that you’ve been able to apply for since they are online. You could never afford the commute or the housing before. You almost feel like a real adult for once—not just a teenager pretending to be one.

The sun is starting to set. You’re pretty sure you’ve eaten at least two full meals and finished most of your homework. It’s time to socialize and (hopefully) feel like a normal college student again! There are a few options tonight. Your friends who aren’t on campus invite you to play online games and call. CPC (Campus Programming Council) is holding an event down by Brittain Lake—and it would be nice to get some fresh air and talk to people face-to-face. Your RA also invited you to a get-together with your family pod. You wouldn’t have to wear a mask since it’s your family pod and it’s a way to build rapport with the people who can probably hear your moments of frustration with your math homework. But you’re tired from the long day sitting at the computer—so of course, you decide to sit at the computer for even longer to do a Zoom call with your friends.

You haven’t talked to some of those friends since they graduated and moved far away. You always say that you want to catch up and do a quick phone call, but it never happens. Apparently all it took was a worldwide pandemic to bring you all together. Everyone is slowly getting used to working and socializing with virtual formats. You never imagined that your social life would evolve into regular Zoom calls while you’re also working on homework or folding your laundry, but you have to admit, it is nice to reconnect with your friends while still getting some work done.

This isn’t the college experience anyone ever imagined or hoped for, but we’re improvising the only way a broke and lonely college student knows how: stubbornness and creativity. S Sydney Roach is a senior multimedia journalism major and writing minor from Northern Cambria, Pennsylvania. Currently the editor-in-chief for The Holcad student newspaper, Sydney also works at Titan Radio, where she is a disc jockey, produces promos, writes PSA scripts and engineers broadcasts. She dreams of one day working as a correspondent for National Public Radio.

FAMILY PODS

This semester, Westminster’s Residence Life adopted a family pod framework in which students who live in close proximity and share a bathroom are identified as a “family pod.” When in the physical location of the family pod, students can remove their face coverings and relax

use of physical distancing.