Zoom, this blue icon that has a Meeting ID, a password, and a tad-long link, asks you if you would allow it on your device. A platform that has transformed the definition of school and waking up at 6 a.m, to go to class — 5:50 a.m., to be more precise. Honestly, I never thought that my first day of college would look like this: a classy shirt paired with pajama pants, peanut butter and banana toast hidden behind the camera, and a three-second walk to your suite-mate’s room to peek into her math lecture. I put my finest awake and aware face on, but happiness was an automated feature that flowed from within. Somehow, I still felt as if I was in high school for a moment. As I stared at my desk compartmentalized with five pen holders, containing more colors than the actual rainbow, I thought. “A bit extra, right?” And let’s not forget how the pens sat beside many sticky notes and silver Stanford-labeled notebooks.
My first Stanford class began with a coconut and palm tree analogy related to justice and social cooperation. At that point, I could have wished to be stranded on an island like in the political example of stickmen Bernardo and Alice — but I would’ve had major FOMO because the quality of the content was too good. The best part of class is when you fake a “bye” and leave the virtual room. “Leave meeting” in red.
Now, it’s time for my second class. “Let’s pick up where we left,” one of my professors would say, but I left my heart in one of Batroun’s narrow streets (my village), scented by the freshness of lemonade. At least, my mind was still in the game as the voiceover pronounced, “This meeting is being recorded,” the sentence I’ve heard the most these past few weeks.
Contact Tiffany Saade at tiff24 ‘at’ stanford.edu.