The first time I heard the phrase “Syllabus Week” was not until about three years ago, while in the midst of my freshman year, approaching the final stretch of winter break. Someone casually asked if I was excited for it, to which I replied that I had no idea what it was.
“You know, the first week of the semester. All your classes are just handing out syllabi so there’s not a lot of work and everyone goes out every night,” a classmate said.
Oh, so basically everyone does what they normally do but this time they have a semi-legitimate reason to do so. Sounded great to me.
There is a certain feeling, though, about this first week of each semester that makes it a little different from your average week at college. That air of freeness and carelessness because you know you have nothing significant to accomplish tomorrow and can back that extra tequila shot with the knowledge that sleeping till noon is not an irrational and improbable task. The eradication of guilt because you might have class tomorrow, but its sole purpose will be only to go through a summary of the semester, which you can probably access online anyway.
It is a time representative of the calm before the storm; the week where you (hopefully) have no definitive assignments to complete, but you know your future holds only select late nights in the library and copious late nights out where you know you should not be out.
I can think of several things I will miss about college life that will hit for real the moment I begrudgingly put on my cap and gown and begin a more professional lifestyle. But most of all, I will miss the universally accepted excuse to forego all responsibilities twice a year in favor of endless social opportunities and arguably improper behavior.
