The coronavirus has unexpectedly interrupted all of our lives. All of us at UNH were obviously saddened and sullen to hear from our administration that our temporary two-week absence from campus would be extended for the rest of the semester. It was an unfortunate yet necessary precaution to take as we heard from the news about developing cases across the country. Words never heard before like “social-distancing” and “self-quarantine” were adopted into the public lexicon seemingly overnight, and we braced ourselves for a moment truly unprecedented in our personal experience as Americans.

My greatest hurdle through the first weeks of the shelter-in-place mandate was the incredible task of staying home all the while maintaining my sanity. I was almost never home during high school. After school, I’d work. And after work, I’d be with my friends. I spent more weekends at my best friend’s house than my own during high schoo...

This is only my second semester at the University of New Hampshire. That would be fine and dandy if I was 18 years old and fresh out of the public high school meat grinder, but unfortunately for me, that’s not the case. I graduated in 2016 and turned 22 last week. So the question arises, “Um... what the fuck are you doin here bud?”

My academic experience is much different from what most students at UNH probably share. I didn’t live in a dorm with a stranger when I was a freshman. I don’t have an embarrassing college romance story. I never joined a shitty fraternity. For the first three years after I graduated high school, I went to a community college.

Community college is a vast hellscape with dim lighting and a shitty vending machine. It’s also anything but a community. My senior year of high school, there was a sentence I constantly heard as loud as police sirens coming from the mouths of my teachers,guidance counsel...

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