Politics belong in the classroom. But recently these spaces don’t cater to discourse, just exhaustion.
I have perfected the art of doom-scrolling, kept track of every executive order I’d like to spit on, and wonder if those who voted for the current economic policies sleep more satisfactory now that 10 transgender athletes are banned from the NCAA and their eggs cost 50% more than 2024. Our Department of Health lies in bed with the bird flu with their future anti-vaccination campaigns; hopefully those individuals cozy up to increased egg prices. I am sick of seeing Elon Musk. And I am tired of acting like I don’t value my American identity because this is the administration of my early 20s.
So for 80 minutes of my life, I’d like to politely escort the orange elephant out of the room and not acknowledge it. Professors, please let your students bury themselves in their books instead of bringing the doomscrolling into the classroom. Because so far, I’ve found these discussions to be anything but productive. I don’t want to start class listing five more irrational executive orders or learn yet another department was dismantled just to move on a minute later.
Instead, I, and many other students, want your guidance to genuinely make an impact on our local community. Although organizations, like Church World Service Lancaster, are threatened by the Trump administration, it doesn’t mean the people they served instantly disappeared in a vacuum. Don’t carve out ten minutes to perpetuate defeatism. Carve out thirty minutes to discuss the principles of social movements if you found it important enough to bring up in the first place; because it is. We are privileged to have access to higher education. Is it not our social responsibility to use it? Are you comfortable with Oxford University Press telling you that the word of the year was “Brainrot”? Right now, we are letting the digital age define us as a generation remembered for our disillusionment and apathy. I don’t think we have to accept this because a lack of student discourse has dire consequences. Democracy depends on challenging discussions.
The best thing we can do as students is to understand history and recognize its patterns. Pick up any history book and you’ll see yourself: college-aged students are the loudest in the room.
We are acting like Trump is the first strongman to weaponize populism. And like those figures remained unchallenged in the past. I’ll admit, there are some confusing irrationalities. Not quite sure why anti-intellectual campaigns have successfully morphed into anti-educational crusades. Or, why so many working-class individuals are willingly accepting a forthcoming Gilded Age. Or, why the GOP clenches onto historical accuracy of including polio in the 1950s “Nuclear Family” they plan to reinstate. Regardless that these paths are unprecedented in U.S. History, these trajectories aren’t unique. This is not the time to embrace American Individualism. Let’s accept this path might not be as special as we think it is – for once – and let it inspire us to take action. Our voices are not useless.
In a room full of student “leaders,” a title granted by the college, I reluctantly admit I felt anger. My peers sat there deflated, crying about the world as if our constitution had already been burned. Others cared more about their next homework assignment. Some people in that room voted for this, but that wasn’t a conversation we were ready to have. Not a single student, myself included, asked how we could publicly demonstrate our frustrations at F&M.
The world is hard. The world is heavy. We claim to be angry, yet that protest tree is empty.
Sophomore Lily Andrey is the Editor-in-Chief. Her email is landrey@fandm.edu.