At the end of August, two weeks shy of MSU’s intended move-in week, the university issued a statement asking undergraduate students to stay home for the fall semester. The university and the community both had high hopes of returning students to campus and having some in-person learning take place, but after observing surrounding colleges’ return to school, it became clear that welcoming 39,000 people back to East Lansing was simply not an option.
Though students were told to remain home, the university promised to offer space to a limited number of students in the residence halls. Students had 150 characters to plead their case. They set a plan for 2,000 students to return to campus, who would live alone in a suite with no roommate or suitemate.
I am one of those students. And this is what it is like, residing on a half-shutdown campus in the middle of a pandemic:
We wear our masks, everywhere. The only time we take our masks off is when we enter our dorm rooms or when we are eating.
We often feel a little let down by our peers. Though many follow public health guidelines to protect the livelihoods of those around them, some individuals seem incapable of doing so. Cases rise, but off-campus apartment parties rage on. Those who attend such reckless gatherings put other on-campus residents at risk, and contribute to the reasons that we are in this position in the first place.
We are contained in our own bubbles of isolation and loneliness. Nearly everything is closed, so there is nowhere to go. There is a complete inability to make friends, not only because it’s nearly vacant here, but because we don’t know how those around us behave on the day-to-day. We don’t know if the person next to us has been partying or disregarding social distancing guidelines. We don’t know if sitting down next to someone and engaging in conversation would put our own health on the line.
We have an extreme lack of resources, despite paying full room and board. Areas that contain printers are blocked off with caution tape. Quiet study rooms are locked. Common areas where students can sit to do work are dismantled, tables and chairs flipped upside down. The library remained closed for our first month of classes, only recently reopening a single floor. The online format of courses makes learning extremely challenging for some students, and with so few resources available, it’s not hard to assume that many students will struggle to succeed.
We live in constant, overwhelming fear. Everyday tasks have become a source of anxiety. A trip to the dining hall to grab a meal puts us at risk for contracting COVID. We could pick it up from the door handles, the worker that served our food, or the person that stood behind us in line. Our home is not necessarily a “safe” place, with so many others living inside our space and existing in the areas that are necessary for our survival.
We feel a huge disconnect from our school, despite living inside of it. It’s extremely hard to relate to or even understand those that hold so much of their identity in their university, when the experience that we are receiving is not ideal nor particularly adequate. It’s hard to muster up hate against Ohio State when we don’t feel like we are actually valued here on our own campus. We understand that our school is trying their best to make difficult decisions, but we also have a front row seat to see where they have fallen short. We are made to feel like the enemy. Instead of it being a fight against the virus, it feels like a fight against us students. We regularly feel a bit disrespected by staff, who often treat us campus-dwellers as intruders, though this place is literally serving as a home.
Living on campus does not mean that we have somehow “accepted the risk”. It does not make us careless or irresponsible. The handful of us residing here have been approved to live on campus for various reasons, all of which are valid. Most of us did not come here to party. Most of us are following the rules, not just because they are rules, but because we care. We deserve to be safe, to be protected, and to live without constant, overwhelming fear of each other. We deserve to know that our community and school has our best interest in mind, that we have not been forgotten about or shrugged off. We deserve to not be treated like the enemy as we battle this virus. Most of us are scared, terrified even, of falling ill. Most of us are lonely. Most of us are lacking resources that are necessary to succeed as a college student. Most of us are stressed, tired, and anxious.
And most of us are doing it alone.