An Ode to the Great American Hero
By Audrey Lingan
I step outside my dorm and feel the cold prickle my cheeks. My ears flood with the crunch of the fallen leaves that litter the sidewalk. As I inhale the sensible 56°F air, I can feel mucus trickling down my throat. Ah yes, it is flu season, and during this fortuitous time of the year, I am reminded of the true American hero: those assholes that show up to class sick.
History immortalizes heroism: Alexander the Great with his military prowess, George Washington fighting for America’s independence, and even the lovely Mother Teresa serving the poor with a righteous heart. As I sit in my 9:05 am, right across from some schmuck who’s coughing like a chronic smoker from the ‘60s, I have no doubt they will join these legends. As their brow perspires with sweat and their nose leaks like a burst pipe, I feel the sudden compulsion to write hymns glorifying their greatness. For God has tasked them to do the unimaginable: coming to class sick.
Yes, they were infirmed, practically bedridden, but they dragged themselves out of bed because they are just objectively better students. Us, mere mortals, could never! Their choice to sit in class—in defiance of any sound medical advice—is a testament to their divine dedication and strength. Their foreheads may be burning, but their academic pursuits are enough to scorch this mortal plane.
It’s inspiring, the steadfast resolve these individuals have to come to class. While their peers drop like flies at the mere mention of a pathogen, these individuals remain on their hero’s journey—like the mighty Hercules. Truly how great a feat it is to show up to class, where attendance is optional, with no mask, raw-dog coughing in the face of their peers. Many times I have told these students to “stay home and rest,” “go see Student Health,” and asked, “Is spit supposed to be that green?” Ah, but I am weak—no better than the biblical doubting Thomas. I fail to recognize that this student coming to class, ignoring common medical advice, makes their presence that much more impressive.
When I see these students, I am reminded of my grandfather who fought in Vietnam. Oh, the stories he would tell me of the scorching walks weighed down by his own gear and fatigue, the restless nights engulfed by rain, the intense pain he endured when a bullet plunged through his shoulder. That’s impressive and all, but it does not hold a candle to the fiery depths of hell I see these students in, as they work on an assignment that is worth maybe 2% of their grade, and the professor was very clear they give extensions.
So, be in awe of these students, dear Commodores. Revel in these students’ earth-shattering coughs, thick phlegm, and dazed expressions. Hope that maybe you will be so fortunate to catch their contagion and elicit just an ounce of their courage. Scholars will one day study their mental fortitude, for they were sick, and still came to class.
