Our society is rife with division about most everything. Even the most seemingly minor cultural sparks can erupt into fiery vitriol. But there is one universally agreed upon truth: the annual shift into daylight savings time is a scourge unlike any other. Each year we collectively fiddle with our clocks like bored toddlers, in the process fucking our sleep schedules for days or even weeks on end. I would venture so far as to argue “spring ahead” is the greatest wrongdoing still perpetuated by American society today.
In spite of this shared suffering, Cornell’s instructors are anything but accommodating of the harm this annual tradition perpetuates. I should be granted all the time I need to recuperate after staying up until 3:00 a.m. watching Tiktoks on Saturday night. But when I explained this to my Chem TA by email, she was openly dismissive, responding that she “doesn’t get paid enough for this shit” and referring me to the professor. I was initially hopeful—perhaps my concerns were advancing through the academic hierarchy! But he was equally intolerant, not only refusing to excuse my absence but even going so far as to suggest that my theories about societal injustice were “patently false” and “probably pretty racist.”
The gall! At first I thought there was only one epidemic afoot, the daylight savings time hangover (or “DST PTSD,” as I have suggested to widespread condemnation). But now I see there is another plague pervading our community: intolerance. Cornell’s regressive stance on daylight savings time is yet another example of this institution’s failure to support the mental and physical health of its students. First there was the closure of the Ivy Room, and now this. What’s next? Canceling Slope Day? Banning orange chicken burritos? None would surprise me at an institution hellbent on depriving its students of joy and wellbeing.
Perhaps I will transfer to some land more tolerant of daylight savings time suffering, a forward-thinking place like Arizona or Indiana. There, at least, I would not be forced to endure the injustice of attending class on time with a fucked-up Circadian rhythm. Daylight may have been saved on this day, but my respect for this institution is beyond repair.