Am I an Academic Weapon?

By Maya Lerman and Ava Lozner

Affirmative

Illustration by Jorja Garcia

I still can’t believe I’m here at Columbia, my dream school! To stand here on Low Steps, in the greatest city in the world, with Ivy League tier opportunities at my fingertips… I need to make the most of this moment. NSOP is coming to a close and I’m still getting the hang of things here—everyone’s so busy, and I’m scared I’m not doing enough. But no matter! My semester plan is rock solid. I will achieve a perfect blend of productivity and social life, and maintain 10 hours of sleep every night. Let me walk you through how.

First off, whose bright idea was it to stifle the great minds of our generation with a course credit limit? It’s ridiculous! But don’t worry, I’ve already spammed my advisor into oblivion until she let me over enroll. It’s just that I’m so passionate about learning that I can’t choose a mere five classes, much less pick a major. My tentative schedule is Organic Chemistry, Advanced Programming, a class or two in the Physics department, Calc XXXII, and of course, Columbia’s Core Curriculum. But out of all my classes, my favorite has got to be Feminist Furniture: Rethinking the Chair. It’s exactly the kind of phil-o-sofa-cal exploration of the household that I hoped to find at Columbia. 

It goes without saying that I’m running for Columbia College Student Body President. I’m excited to represent my class and make real, meaningful change at our revolutionary and avant-garde institution. And, I think I have a good chance at winning. When I was campaigning, one guy told me that my enthusiasm “borders on mania.” That must be a good sign.

Oh, and who can forget about all the extracurriculars I’m planning on joining? I’m in a couple dozen clubs for now, but the most important is obviously The Columbia Daily Spectator. Okay, technically I’m not on Spec yet, but when they see the results of my groundbreaking personal investigation, they’ll accept me for sure! I don’t want to reveal too much yet, but let’s just say when my piece is published, Katrina Armstrong will resign faster than you can say “Minouche Sha-fucked!” As much as I love Spec, I will say their “ethical journalism” guidelines are a bit of a pain. According to their editorial board, being a journalist doesn’t excuse “stalking” and “breaking the law.” Personally, I think they’re overreacting. How am I supposed to get the scoop of the century if I can’t trespass on private property? 

I know I have a lot on my plate already, but I need to make sure I maintain my healthy habits despite the busy schedule. I’ll go to Dodge for at least an hour a day and eat three meals a day at Ferris—gotta keep up the physique! I’m here to strengthen my mind alongside my body: I’ll read every Lit Hum book cover to cover, go to every available office hours appointment, get a campus job, and in my free time, explore all the Big Apple has to offer. I’ll go to a museum at least once a week, become a street-style fashionista, volunteer at local non-profit organizations, and maybe even dip my toes into the New York techno-rave scene. I’m going to be my best city-girl self this semester, and nothing can stop me! 

But I’m not all about the self-improvement grind. I’m also here at Columbia to find love; after all, isn’t that what college life is all about? As soon as I moved in, I downloaded Hinge and Tinder, and all the other apps for good measure. Needless to say, after a couple blind dates, Sidechat DMs, and some stalking on the Columbia2028 Instagram page, I think I have some promising options on my roster. 

First, there’s this girl Lucy. She was in my NSOP group, and we really hit it off when we were the only two people to show up to the “mandatory” social and emotional learning session. Since then, we’ve spent every waking moment together. She even said “I love you.” Afterwards, while we held hands, she told me she wants to keep it “casual” and that it’s “not that deep.” Since Lucy is so adamantly against being exclusive, I started talking to this upperclassman named Damon. He’s in something called the John Jay Society. He says it’s Columbia’s oldest and most prestigious debate organization, which sounds great to me. Finally, there’s Beelzebub, an international student. I couldn’t quite catch where he’s from since his accent is so thick; I think he said Nether-something? The Netherlands, maybe? Anyway, I’m really into him, but my friends say his blood-ingestion kink is a “red flag.” The way I see it, it’s my freshman year in New York City, and I’m here to try new things!  Unrealistic, you say? Pfft. I got into Columbia. I can do anything.

Negative

Ok, so I was a bit … ambitious. I’m just a girl! 

You may have noticed earlier that I forgot to mention a certain scientific requirement when I first introduced my extensive schedule. It seems that while I was busy maintaining my C average, I simply forgot to attend a single Frontiers of Science lecture or discussion section. But would you believe that even after my extremely apologetic email, my discussion professor still refused to let me make up my 43 missing assignments? Whatever happened to women in STEM? 

Don’t even get me started on Feminist Furniture—Fem Fur if you’re with it. My chair-building final went up in flames when the professor claimed my chair wasn’t inclusive enough for people with GG breast size and above. He said the chair “lacked back support.” 

Unfortunately, the adversity didn’t stop there. Although my campaign for Columbia College Student Body President debuted flawlessly, I was quickly plunged into a PR nightmare. I think I can best explain the situation with a segment of the apology email I sent out while I was being canceled earlier this year: 

I’m sure by now we’ve all seen the video of me that has recently gone viral. I would like to sincerely apologize to all of you for the video’s contents. This video was taken at the very start of the year, before I understood the Low Steps Bottle Flipping Man to be an integral part of our campus community. I was in the middle of a dark moment, having just taken a tumble down the top of Low Steps, and took my anger out on an innocent bystander. I have been informed that, upon inspection at Mount Sinai Hospital, it was found that the blow to his groin burst Mr. Bottle Flipper’s left testicle. We have come to a settlement to avoid a trial and I am committed to earning back his trust over time. I will take this experience as an opportunity to better myself and become the leader that the students of Columbia University deserve. 

I think it goes without saying that my bid for Columbia College Student Body President was unsuccessful. But nevertheless, she persisted!

The end of my campaign was really a blessing in disguise, as it allowed me to throw myself into my work as an investigative reporter for Spec. I was truly inspired to go hardcore in my exposé of President Armstrong when I found out University Hardware was having a sale on binoculars. Let’s just say that from my perch at the top of a tree in Morningside Park, I became intimately familiar with Armstrong’s daily routine through the windows of the President’s House. During my week-long stakeout, I gathered loads of compelling footage. However, upon bringing my evidence to the Spec higher-ups, they seemed less than pleased. Apparently, I was “tarnishing their reputation” as I was never given clearance from Spec to “pursue that lead,” and I should have “stuck to my assigned piece on the Ferris lunch specials.” Safe to say that was the end of my professional partnership with The Columbia Spectator.

It’s all water under the bridge, though, as the true highlight of my year was finding my person. Of course, it didn’t work out with Lucy and Damon. Lucy and our whirlwind romance is nothing but a faint memory now. I should have known it wouldn’t last when she refused to introduce me as anything more than her “NSOP buddy” to her friend group despite claiming to be madly in love with me. I eventually said good riddance to her and decided to give things a go with Damon. Things started off a bit rocky when he invited me to a meeting of the John Jay Society (NOT my crowd), but I decided to see where things went. However, I soon realized that our differences were too steep a hill to climb when I walked in on him in a very compromising position—I won’t say too much out of respect for his privacy, but let’s just say it involved a Ben Shapiro TikTok edit, red LED lights, and a furry butt plug.

After the whole Damon situation died down, Beelzebub invited me for lunch. I haven’t looked back since. Although I was a bit hesitant at first, I’ve never known a love this all-consuming (I did give the blood ingestion thing a try). I am forever thankful to Belly for introducing me to the Father. After getting through the boring housekeeping stuff—small-scale animal sacrifice, a quaint soul-selling ceremony, etc.—I really got to the bread and butter of worshiping the Dark Lord. Not to brag, but since Belly is a pretty big deal in the church, I’ve been let in on a few secrets that not all disciples get to know. And trust me: some of this stuff would blow your mind (two words: Beyoncé Morningstar). 

I really don’t know why I let the stress get to me at the start of this year. Everything seems to have worked out for me. I’m especially excited because I’m visiting Belly’s home country this summer. Although he claims that once I get there, I “won’t have to worry about enrolling for classes for the fall.” Whatever that means! Anyways, Hail Satan!