Why I’m going to Western despite online classes
The coronavirus pandemic has created a new reality for post-secondary students — myself included. Students are now being given the opportunity to study from home, as universities and colleges shift many courses online. And so, my friends and I are facing the ultimatum of moving back to our five-bedroom rental in London, Ont., or staying in our rural township.
But even though paying for rent, groceries and transit is daunting when I could live expense-free with my parents, I’ve made the decision to move back. London is where I can focus on work, have freedom away from my family and have a reliable internet connection. I have two years left of my undergraduate degree, and I’m going to salvage what I can — even if I have to wear a mask, and stand two metres away.
Come September, I will have a full course load, complete with essays, projects, exams and everything in between. I need to be able to focus, to sit down, breathe and write, and with a hectic family, that can be hard to accomplish. London gives me the time and peace I need, but it also gives me something else — a sense of familiarity.
When I’m driving down the highway and the land begins to roll, my heart clenches a little bit. London hones my academic purpose — it’s where my routine is. Being in the city puts me in the mindset to do work. My home is many wonderful things, but it’s not the place I should be this fall.
Moving back to London also means reliable internet access — something that my parents’ house has always struggled with. For many, living in a rural area means good internet access is more expensive.
I’ve spent many hours this summer sitting in the library parking lot, computer on my lap, rotating the air conditioning on and off to save the car battery, attempting to load my political science lecture. And that’s just for one class, a full course load would be completely unmanageable. I’m in a position where bad internet connection isn’t just an inconvenience — it’s debilitating.
Moving back to my university town means freedom.
Going away for university was supposed to be the jumping-off point for becoming independent. Living with my parents for my third year feels like a step in the wrong direction.
Although COVID-19 has ensured many aspects of being a traditional student are forfeit this year, I can still have late nights with my roommates, grocery shop on my own and live on my own schedule. Living with my parents, while the cheaper route, doesn’t give me the space to grow.
I have the privilege of being able to move back: many students do not have the funds.
Even still, I can’t help being sad — our once-in-a-lifetime adventure, our chance of living our parents’ stories, is being replaced by a screen.