Sutton Smith, a junior history and religion double major, Hess Fellow, and Truman Scholar finalist, took time to write an essay as she prepares for online courses away from campus. Her reflection, like Dr. Mark Schantz‘s essay on this strange time, poignantly examines the community at BSC that so many have built over the years.

Pictured above: Smith (right) with senior Eliza Love

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Over the past few days, I’ve been struggling with pangs of nagging guilt. I feel guilty for complaining about how this virus has taken my time at Birmingham-Southern College. Others have lost their paychecks, their health, and their loved ones. I’m currently fortunate to have health and security, though it’s hard not to let fear creep in after a few minutes of scrolling through Twitter.

Ultimately, I know that I shouldn’t be complaining about losing a couple of months of college. So many people, literally around the world, are facing the deepest of difficulties.

However, as I sit at my kitchen table at home, wearing a t-shirt that says, “It’s Nice to Have You at Birmingham-Southern,” I can’t help but feel robbed.

Robbed of half of a semester. When I go back to school in the fall, I’ll be a senior in college. The thought of my looming senior year, the final barrier between me and adulthood, is enough to raise the hair on my arms.

Robbed of spring on the Hilltop. Sunny Saturdays when you can hear the echo of the announcer at the baseball stadium over on the Residential Quad. Long afternoons sitting by the fountain after class with feet propped up on the green metal tables.

My senior friends are especially brokenhearted, as they were robbed of all of their “lasts” and rites of passage. They won’t get to ring the bell on the last day of classes — or even have a “last day of class.” No graduation pictures in their caps and gowns down by the lake or in front of the bell tower. No final sorority or fraternity chapter, no SoCo spring concert, and no Honors Day.

As the days become longer and the papers and assignments come quicker, spring semester flies by. Once May comes around, and finals wrap up, there is a gradual feeling of closure as the year comes to its end. Seniors are proud of what they’ve accomplished but anxious for what’s ahead. Freshmen can’t believe how fast nine months can go by. Juniors, like me, are frightened by the thought of only one more go-around.

This year, there was no feeling of closure. There was an abrupt halt that left us all dizzy and discombobulated, like when you’re driving down the highway and suddenly have to brake. The car skids to a stop and the tires scream, but your body keeps going and strains against the seat belt and your hands and head hit the dashboard.

My heart and my mind are carrying on like I’m still at BSC, still in classes, still with my friends. But my body is somewhere else. I’m confused about what’s happened and anxious for what’s to come. I’m lonely without my friends and apprehensive about having to take my discussion-based classes online. I even miss living in Bruno, the same dorm where my mom lived in the early nineties. She says it hasn’t changed a bit.

Even after a gut-wrenching day of leaving my favorite people and my favorite place and driving hundreds of miles in opposite directions from my friends, I can’t help but feel overwhelmingly grateful. While friends from high school at different universities are posting with mild excitement about an “extended spring break,” BSC students are mourning the loss of precious time on the Hilltop. I would give anything to be in the library right now, trying to figure out how to do Statistics or reading a hundred-plus pages for a History class.

The community found on the Hilltop between faculty, staff, and students is unmatched. This much is apparent during such a painful and uncertain time as we find solace in one another.

On Sunday night, the last night on campus, my roommate and I packed our belongings into trash bags and egg crates, throwing things in wherever there was room. An organizationally-gifted friend came over to help with Thin Mints in hand. What better picture of community is there?

For better and for worse, we live in a digital world of iPhones and Instagram. Thankfully during this time of social isolation, that means I can easily keep in touch with friends who live in Georgia, Florida, Tennessee, and Mississippi. For the foreseeable future, FaceTime is going to have to suffice.

Being the technologically-challenged person that I am, the coming weeks of online classes are likely to be frustrating and confusing. Thankfully, I have patient and gracious professors who care about me, not just as a student, but as a person. Though some of my professors are even more technologically-challenged than I am, we will somehow find a way to continue to learn together and finish out the semester.

To a person battling for their livelihood or their health, my complaints may be frustrating and seem frivolous. Maybe some of them are. But leaving campus on Monday and driving south down Highway 280 was one of the harder things I’ve done.

For the next couple of months, I’ll miss the Hilltop each and every day, though I’ll be grateful that we live in an age where I can still connect with my people no matter how far from Birmingham we are. The pain that students, faculty, and staff are currently feeling is a meaningful testament to the place we all call home.

Forward ever,
Sutton Smith
Class of 2021