Five Days: Print Edition Spring 2020

the GAVEL Spring 2020 / Vol. XI Issue 1

Cover photo courtesy of Graydon Wood

fivedays

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letter from the editor

By Patrick Carpenter rumors By Raymond Cai the day of By Ellen Gerst party like it’s the end of the world

By Kelly Mahoney senior week By Dorothy Cucci movin’ out By Kelli Rodrigues senior moments

By The Class of 2020 what now? By Nico Borbolla

4 6 9 13 16 20 22 26

Photo courtesy of Steven Ebert

The Spring 2020 Gavel Editorial Board editor-in-chief

Patrick Carpenter managing editor Dorothy Cucci creative managers Frankie Mancini, Kate McCabe Keaden Morisaki digital editors Mariah Belisle, Greta Gareth general manager Justin Curran print editor Anton Aguila features editor Lauren Blaser sports editor Matt DeMerlis culture editor Carmen Chu news editor Lucas Coleman opinions editor Jasmine Schmidt authentic eagles editor Ray Cai head copy editor

assoc. print editor

Nico Borbolla assoc. features editors Svea McNally, Ashley Stauber assoc. sports editors Joe Birdsall, Jake McNeill, Emma Twombly assoc. culture editors Joe Ezersky, Meg Traudt assoc. news editor Sophie Lodes assoc. opinions editors Lizzy Davis, Macie Gettings, Kelli Rodrigues, Julia Swiatek, Maddie Wester Anna Constantini, Sydnie Jiang, Josie Morales-Thomason, Benie N'sumbu, Vidisha Pandey, Hannah Ruane, Ben Rufo, Julia Steponaitis creative staff Alison Breen, Kylie Chen, Arthur Christory, Mercedes Hoyos, Jamie Kim, Alexa Kirby, Nicole Mailhoit, Maddie McGuigan, Julianna Pijar, Lexi Santoro, Ngan Tran, Carlos Tramonte, Elizabeth Untama print staff Kelly Mahoney, Maia Rosenbaum, Caitlyn Yee marketing coordinator Macy Amos copy editors

Andrea Barcenas, Connor Bils, Emma Butler-VanderLinden, Liam Dietrich, Taylor Hall, Rafidur Rafid, Mairi Scholefield, Zoya Siddiqui, Isabel Wibowo creative assistants Maddy Mitchell, Eva Timoney editorial assistants

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letterfrom theeditor The last two months feel like something out of a dream.

Or, perhaps more appropriately, something out of a nightmare.

Coronavirus has swept around the globe, directly affecting millions of people and keeping millions more shut inside their homes in quarantine. The time in which we are currently living is as unprecedented as anything we have ever experienced. This Coronavirus pandemic is, without a doubt, unlike anything the world has gone through in at least a century.

The days of living with my friends, eating lunch in Eagles’ Nest every day, and spending altogether too many hours in the Gavel office in the basement of Mac feel like a distant memory. I long to live in a world free of the daily stress, anxiety, and physical and emotional strain of a national quarantine. These days, it feels all too easy to go through life without hope. But I think this virus has taught us a lot about ourselves. As individuals, as a Boston College community, and as a society, things are never going to be quite the same.

Like most aspects of normal life, our plans for The Gavel this semester shifted drastically once the country was sent into lockdown. With very few students left on campus and our staff spread out across the globe, moving forward with our typical print magazine was no longer an option.

Instead, we have decided to devote this special edition to amplify the stories of how our Boston College community was affected when COVID-19 arrived on America’s doorstep. And although we are physically separated, because of the hard work and creativity of many Gavel staff members and editors, we are able to carry on our mission of providing a platform and a voice to lift up these important stories for our campus community. I believe the stories inside demonstrate our collective resilience and strength.

Five Days is meant to be a snapshot of life at Boston College in between the afternoon of Wednesday, March

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11th—the time that the student body first found out about the transition to online learning—and Sunday, March 15th, the day that on-campus dormitories officially closed.

Those five days were a moment of incredible transition not only for the BC community, but for the entire world. Our campus was turned upside down as students tried to make sense of the reality of what was happening around them.

We’ve dedicated this issue to documenting what happened during those last five days, highlighting stories from the Class of 2020 in particular. To those graduating seniors who had their college careers cut short: We love you. This is for you.

Every week, my parents, my sister, and I have a Zoom call with some of our closest family friends. And every week, everybody on that Zoom call has to go around and answer some kind of question about a positive aspect of their lives during quarantine. Whether it be something we have learned, something we are grateful for, or something we are looking forward to, answering that question always gets us talking about hopeful stories. And for me, that has been a breath of fresh air. Coronavirus has dominated all areas of our lives. What else is there to talk about?

Talking nonstop about Coronavirus, “COVID-19,” “the virus,” “rona,” or whatever you might name it, has become unavoidable. In a time filled with such negativity, we owe it to ourselves to take the time to be hopeful. And there are plenty of stories of hope out there.

When this is all over, don’t forget the lessons we have learned. Remember to thank doctors, nurses, and other healthcare workers who are putting their lives on the line to get us through this. Lift up the essential workers who make sure society can keep functioning.

Take care of yourselves. Take care of one another. One day soon, we’ll all get back to walks around the Res, tailgates outside Alumni, late nights in O’Neill, and later nights in the Mods. I can’t wait until the day when we can all step foot back on campus. Until then, stay safe.

patrick carpenter editor-in-chief of the gavel

Photo by Ellen Gerst / Gavel Media

“In a time filled with such negativity, we owe it to ourselves to take the time to be hopeful.

And there are plenty of stories of hope out there.�

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rumors SPRING 2020 / RAYMOND CAI

Photo courtesy of Steven Ebert

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“I have not seen anything of this magnitude before.

We are dealing with something completely unprecedented here.”

Monday When Boston College students returned to campus on March 9, more than 30 universities around the nation had moved classes online. Something was already in the air.

Anxiety was building up on BC campus. As I walked from Lower to Gasson, the word “coronavirus” seemed to pop up in every conversation overheard.

Texts swamped group chats, coughs turned heads, friends hesitated to hug each other. “Mass hysteria on a college campus is not fun,” said Lexie Slotterback, MCAS ‘22.

The faculty was in the dark, too. Some professors had responded to concerns by moving their own classes online and encouraging students with flu-like symptoms to stay home.

The Center for Teaching Excellence sent out an email on Monday with guides that would help faculty to teach remotely “should the need arise.”

“I have not seen anything of this magnitude before,” said Journalism Professor Jon Marcus, who has covered higher education for years, about universities sending students home. “We are dealing with something completely unprecedented here.”

The administration remained silent.

A Change.org petition calling for the university to temporarily move all classes online had received more than 1,500 signatures by Monday night.

Tuesday On March 10, Massachusetts confirmed 51 new cases of COVID-19 and declared a state of emergency. Harvard and MIT closed that afternoon.

Will all classes move online? Is anyone infected? Will students be required to leave? Many asked.

Still, nothing from the university. Rumors started spreading.

That afternoon, Adjunct Professor Chokdee Rutirasiri emailed his students saying that BC would “make the official announcement [Wednesday] morning to move classes online.”

A screenshot of the email soon spread on social media.

Barstool Boston College, an Instagram account with more than 6,000 followers, also reposted the photo.

According to another widespread rumor, a student had tested positive for the virus at University Health Services, contributing to the frenzy.

“I tried to ask for more clarification but was told I needed to leave,” said Lucas Carroll, MCAS ‘22 and a staff writer for The Gavel. “As I was leaving a student stopped me and asked if it’s true, that there are confirmed cases. I told her I’m not sure, and she said she’s terrified about the whole situation.”

“I called the head of Brookline’s health department, but she did not pick up,” Carroll said of his attempt to gather more information. “It was very clear on her answering machine that she’s going to be on vacation till the 16th and won’t check her answering machine before that.”

“Senior administrators have been closely monitoring developments related to COVID-19, and the guidelines issued by the CDC and Massachusetts Department of Public Health. We are also in close contact with institutions of higher learning in the Greater Boston area,” said Associate Vice President of University Communications Jack Dunn in an email to a reporter from The Heights who had reached out earlier.

Dunn did not respond to an email requesting comments.

“I hate all the rumors that crop up when the administration doesn’t say anything,” said Quinn Usry, MCAS ‘22.

The air on campus was dense. On my way back to Vandy, I

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saw students gathered in pockets outside the dorms. Some paced in circles, talking on the phone. Some kept peeking in the direction of UHS. Later that evening, students finally received an official statement from the university in the form of Tweets.

“At this time, there have been no reported cases of Coronavirus at Boston College,” the university Tweeted later that night.

Some seniors worried that the outbreak would affect what’s left of their time on the heights. “Coming back after spring break felt like getting ready to say a long, extended goodbye,” said MaryElizabeth Mooney, MCAS ‘20, “and getting sent home soon would deprive us of that.”

The situation is also difficult for international students.

For many of them, returning home would not be an option if BC chose to close its dorms. “I hope they would let us stay here,” said Ho Wong, MCAS ‘22, whose family lives in China, “or at least let us know what to expect.”

“At this time, Boston College remains open,” BC’s official twitter account stated on Tuesday evening. “Decisions made by the administration will be disseminated by the University.”

The Tweet also attached a screenshot of an email from Professor Rutirasiri retracting his earlier statement.

“Poor guy,” an unidentified student at Late Night said. “He sounds like he wrote that email with a gun to his head.”

More than 70 comments flooded the thread within an hour, most of which were from students asking the administration for clarification.

The account did not respond. The campus went to sleep uneasily.

“I hope they would let us stay here, or at least let us know what to expect.”

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Photo courtesy of Graydon Wood

Wednesday The World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a global pandemic on Wednesday. Northeastern, BU, UMass Boston, and 16 other schools in Boston had moved classes online.

“Keeping students on campus is the most sensible course of action at this point,” said Professor of Biology Philip Landrigan in a phone interview that morning. “The last thing I would do is to make students travel home and get infected or infect other people on the way.”

“Avoid extraneous gatherings like large lectures, which increase exposure,” said Landrigan, who had been briefing the administration. He sounded confident. “Switching classes online will help, so will other common-sense preventive measures.”

“For average BC students with no health complications, the effects of the coronavirus should be similar to that of the common flu,” Landrigan said. “In fact, I have no doubt that there are already cases on campus, since the incubation period can last for 14 days.”

With still no official word from the university and the rumor mill churning harder and harder, Wednesday began with the quixotic hope that BC would tenaciously hold off on sending students home. After all, when it comes to snow days and other cancellations, BC is usually austere.

But the day would end with an earth-shattering email.

SPRING 2020 / ELLEN GERST

the day of wednesday

march

eleventh

5:11 P.M. Fuel America was still open on March 11, the day Governor Charlie Baker declared Massachusetts in a state of emergency. The employees wore gloves, and all drinks were served in to-go cups. And, as always, it was packed.

to work here, trying to distract ourselves from the rumors flying around campus about whether we’d be sent home from school or not.

Earlier in the day, without knowing it, we had attended our last physical classes at Boston College.

My friends grabbed a couple seats at the end of a table while I set up at the window, next to one of the cafe’s coveted outlets. We’d decided

Some said the email was coming at 6 p.m., some said 5. I tried not to look at the time too often, but I couldn’t help it. Between my iced latte

and the threat of having to leave college forever, my leg couldn’t stop bouncing.

A few minutes after 5, my friend Andy tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and squinted to read the email she was holding up on her phone.

“They’re making us go home.”

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Closer to the five o’clock deadline, rumors about the school closing started to feel more like warnings.

“A BC cop stopped me on the street on my way back from the liquor store and told me they were sending us home,” Kristina Zamrowski, MCAS ‘20, said. “But I didn’t believe it was real until I got the email.”

The first thing she did was crack a White Claw and head over to her friends’ Mod, where she found them already crying and drinking.

“I knew the announcement had come when I heard someone outside in the Mods yell, ‘Fuck it, we’re drinking outside—what are they gonna do, expel us?’” she laughs.

“It was just this feeling of group collapse.”

“I just remember FaceTiming my roommates immediately,” Shea Rulon, CSOM ‘20, said, “and telling them to come home, that it was time to start drinking.”

Rulon and a few friends headed to Wegmans right away to stock up on alcohol.

Krista Roze, MCAS ‘20, was walking back from her on-campus job when she saw a student crying openly on Gasson Quad.

“She wasn’t trying to hide it at all,” Roze said. “Something about that made me think, okay, I have to check my email right now.”

The reality of the email, typed in sterile Times New Roman, shattered the feeling of perverted excitement on campus leading up to the announcement.

“My roommate Tim came in and said, ‘Zach, man, it’s over,’” said Zach Erickson, MCAS ‘20. “I was actually really excited for something to happen, but then when I got the email I got really gloomy.”

Erickson and his roommates sat in disbelief for a while before putting on Jimmy Buffett’s “It’s Been a Lovely Cruise.”

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“It sounds cliche, but it was so surreal,” Roze said. “Like a bad dream, or a joke, or a mistake. I just didn’t believe it was real, somehow.”

5:18 P.M. We packed up our notebooks and laptops as soon as we’d each read the email through at least three times. As we headed out the door, Andy and Joan broke the emotionless sense of disbelief and started to cry. I knew I should cry, too, but for some reason I didn’t even feel my lip wobble.

“Let’s go this way,” Joan said, pointing down Chiswick Road. “I need to buy champagne.”

We made our way towards Huntington Market, where Joan grabbed a bottle of Veuve from the top shelf. I bought a $12 bottle of prosecco.

As we clanged out of Huntington, I pulled up the Rider app on my phone for one of the last times in my life.

“There’s a Comm Ave. bus coming in four minutes.”

“My immediate first thought was that I can’t go home,” Rulon said. “It was just not an option.”

With the news that all students, besides a very few exceptions, must move out of on-campus housing by Sunday, March 15, students and their families scrambled to figure out logistics. In the midst of the chaos unraveling across campus, Rulon’s first worry was finding housing.

“I was scouring the Facebook group for sublets, trying to get a group together,” she said.

Mitch Morrison, CSOM ‘20, also knew he didn’t want to go home—and he didn’t even want to think about getting everything he owns back to his hometown of Kansas City in just four days.

“I didn’t call my parents, there was no time to have a discussion,” Morrison said. “But I had to figure out what I was doing on that Sunday.”

Photo by Ellen Gerst / Gavel Media

“My initial reaction was, I can’t be alone right now,” Roze said. After finding her apartment empty, she headed to Lower to meet up with friends from her sketch comedy group Hello… Shovelhead!

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“I should have been worrying about packing or moving,” Zamrowski said. “But I was just worried about seeing the people I cared about and saying goodbye. Whenever I was with one group of friends, I felt like I was missing time with another.”

By the time she called her parents, Zamrowski thought she had cried all her tears.

“But hearing my mom’s voice, I started crying again. It suddenly felt real that I had to go home.”

“I just wasn’t sure if I was emotionally ready to leave my friends, leave campus, and go back to living with my family,” Morrison said. “We were walking between different Mods, just saying ‘Can you believe this? This is crazy!’ over and over again for like five hours.”

5:23 P.M.

We squeezed onto the bus, already full on its way back to campus.

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t even know.”

“I have to call my mom.”

We alternated between frantically texting everyone we could think of and exchanging unproductive expressions of disbelief. Two girls in front of us discussed how they were going to move out of Vandy in four days. I wished I was in their shoes so badly.

“Are you guys seniors?” One of them turned around to ask.

Andy laughed and nodded through tears.

“I’m so sorry, this must suck for you guys,” she said. Her

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tone was genuine, but I couldn’t agree with her out loud; to say it sucked would mean it was real, and I still hadn’t cried yet. I didn’t want to start on the Comm Ave. bus.

We pulled up to Robsham, stumbling out onto a campus full of 9,000 mourning students. People outside Lower sobbed with friends and hugged anyone who stopped by.

No one thought of homework, theses, or getting up for class tomorrow—they didn’t exist anymore.

Andy and I said goodbye to Joan, who headed for her Mod with tears on her cheeks and Veuve in her arms. We turned to face the hill and climb up to Ignacio Hall.

“It seemed so drastic at the time, an overreaction,” Rulon said. “I wasn’t afraid of the coronavirus at all. But now it’s like, oh, obviously we had to close.”

“The virus itself—it’s not a joke, it’s obviously a serious disease,” Morrison said. “But I thought it would be better to wait and see.”

Seniors, robbed of their last two months of college, had little thought of the real-life implications of the virus.

Without widespread social distancing measures in place, they spent their final days at BC in big groups, crowded Mods, and tight hugs.

“I didn’t think of it as a real virus until everyone moved out, and it sunk in that it was an actual pandemic,” Roze said. “It didn’t just affect our college experience, it was affecting everyone in the world.”

Erickson said he wasn’t worried about the pandemic yet, since the numbers were relatively low in the United States in early March.

“I thought it was silly they were closing school,” Erickson said. “I thought maybe we could come back after a few weeks. But looking back on it… that wasn’t going to happen.”

The last few days of the physical semester kept students inside the BC bubble more than usual, with no time to waste reading the news or keeping tabs on the virus’ spread.

“The pandemic was obviously bad, but it didn’t seem as bad then as we now know it is,” Zamrowski said. “I was mostly thinking about all the things I wouldn’t get to do— Marathon Monday, Mudstock… even sitting in the quad on a nice day with my peach black tea from the Chocolate Bar. We don’t get to do that this year.”

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People outside Lower sobbed with friends and hugged anyone who stopped by.

No one thought of homework, theses, or getting up for class tomorrow—they didn’t exist anymore.

5:35 P.M. After a silent elevator ride, we came home to an empty apartment. Our fridge was full of groceries I had bought days before. I now worried about finishing them by the end of the weekend.

I shut myself in my room to call my parents, my bottom lip finally wobbling as the phone rang. As soon as I heard my mom’s voice, I started to sob.

Forty minutes later, I’d told my parents what was going on and that I planned to move off-campus instead of coming home. I rejoined my roommates, slowly returning home in varying levels of distress, in the common room.

I kept running through a mental list of things my friends promised each other we’d do before graduation while searching Facebook for apartments to sublet.

Eventually, as the sun started to set and our friends started to call us, telling us to come to the Mods, I closed my laptop. We milled around our apartment, still in a bit of a stupor, finding jackets to throw on. We grabbed whatever loose beers and seltzers we could find, turned out the lights, and headed down to the Mods.

Photo courtesy of Graydon Wood

party like it’s the end of the world SPRING 2020 / KELLY MAHONEY I told my mom I just wanted to go home, back to my Mod, as I blinked back tears and almost felt stupid for wanting to cry.

But when I walked in on my roommate sobbing in the doorway, I couldn’t blame her.

So instead, I joined her.

After crying and doing our best to console one another, we decided we needed—no, we deserved—a bottle of wine to drown our sorrows in, and we weren’t the only ones with that idea.

That evening marked the beginning of the end and kicked off a class-wide, five-day bender where students coped the best way we knew how: by partying.

It didn’t take long for the Mods to fill with students, something akin to tailgate season but with an added smack of anarchy.

ResLife staff and BCPD quickly responded, attempting to maintain some semblance of control amidst chaos. Students were ushered inside, asked to keep open containers indoors or to turn their music down, but the fear of consequence was gone. It became a bitter, running joke for the next five days: What are they going to do, kick us out? Corona already took care of that for them.

Some students took this bitterness to an extreme, with multiple incidents of vandalism taking place across campus. Mods were egged, stones were thrown through centuries-old stained glass in Gasson, white handprints were smeared across Mods and academic buildings alike, and signs and graffiti cropped up across campus declaring the Class of 2020’s refusal to donate as alumni.

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“I managed to fill those five days with two months worth of experiences alongside my best friends, in a place that has inevitably changed my life.”

It was a blur that didn’t leave much room for emotional processing, but taking a step back, I have never felt closer to my classmates than I did in those last few days. It’s oddly comforting knowing that every person around you feels the same way you do: uncertain about the future, horribly sad, and only feeling somewhat happy again when surrounded by close friends, neighbors, and even classmates you may not have known that well.

However, this comfort through community may have also contributed to the spread of the very virus that closed our university in the first place. While Father Leahy’s initial email declared no BC students had been formally diagnosed, it wasn’t long after the campus closure that news broke of students who had contracted the virus. The majority of those who were officially diagnosed with COVID-19 had recently returned from studying abroad (where the virus had already begun to ramp up), but many more students experienced symptoms without a diagnosis.

At the time of BC’s closure, the full extent of the virus’s spread in the United States was still unclear, with even the president denying the severity of risk in a tweet on March 9.

When you’re forced to confront those feelings earlier than

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expected, it forces you to realize what (and who) is important to you. In those last five days, who did you spend the most time with? Who did you take your senior portraits in Bapst or Gasson lawn with? Who did you vehemently seek out to explain just how important to you they are, and how much of an impact they had on you? Who did you hug the tightest while you cried?

Despite the unintended consequences of consistent mass gatherings amidst a budding global pandemic, I can’t bring myself to regret it. I managed to fill those five days with two months worth of experiences alongside my best friends, in a place that has inevitably changed my life. To paraphrase a favorite quote of mine, mourning the premature end to our senior year and separation from our lifelong college friends “is the price [we] pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place.”

Photo by Ellen Gerst / Gavel Media

Photo courtesy of Steven Ebert

Photo courtesy of Casey Nicastri

Photo courtesy of Casey Nicastri

Photo courtesy of Steven Ebert

Photo courtesy of Casey Nicastri

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SPRING 2020 / DOROTHY CUCCI

senior week-ish

Photo courtesy of Steven Ebert

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The Class of 2020 didn’t waste time self-pitying.

After mourning with their roommates, meeting up with clubs, and calling their parents, they wiped their tears and got moving. They were going to make the impossible possible. They were going to squeeze the last eight weeks of college into five days.

Photo courtesy of Steven Ebert

“People just started running out, buying a ton of alcohol, getting Pino’s. Everyone was running left and right. The world was ending,” said Claire Wilson, LSOE ‘20. “It was so chaotic that you didn’t even have time to think about how sad and scary everything was.”

In the wake of the initial blow, all they could do was grab their drinks and friends and head to the Mods. But after that first night of partying (Wilson called it an “apocalyptic tailgate”), they started to plan.

The following four days were a booze-fueled whirlwind of seniors trying to make as many memories with as many friends as possible while checking off a floorlength list of “lasts.”

And to their surprise, they pulled it off.

Photo by Ellen Gerst / Gavel Media

The night before his Mod wedding, Kieran Harrington, MCAS ‘20, proposed to his friend Mary Holt, MCAS ‘20, with a Ring Pop at Mary Ann’s.

An indispensable part of Senior Week, the fake weddings are a celebration of friendship. Some were “shotgun weddings” that lasted all of five minutes.

Others, like one senior’s Sonny-and-Cher-themed ceremony, were more elaborate and well attended.

Harrington wore a rainbow jumpsuit to his, and his bride, a toilet paper gown.

Photo by Ellen Gerst / Gavel Media

“There were gay weddings, straight weddings, there were gay men marrying straight women. And I think the best part is that you can go as far as you want with it,” he said.

“The song I walked down to was ‘I Came Here For Love’ by Grant Richards. That was my personal anthem for the whole five days. And the song kind of speaks to what I came to BC for, not romantic love but just the intimate relationships that you form over the four years,” said Harrington.

Another Senior Week tradition, dorm walks, gave seniors a chance to share memories and a drink with the underclassmen who now occupy their old rooms.

Photo courtesy of Steven Ebert

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Coughlin is on Phaymus, one of BC’s myriad of dance teams. She and her teammates were crushed by the thought that their long hours practicing for the annual dance competition in Conte Forum might have been for nothing.

But another dance group, Synergy, acted quickly to organize an impromptu showcase. Texts were sent, speakers were borrowed, and dancers arrived at their “stage,” the lawn in front of 2150, at dusk to a crowd of cheering students.

“There were so many moving parts that at any point, it would have made so much sense if we got a text that said, ‘You know what, it seems too hard for all the dance teams to come together right now. Let’s just leave it,’” Coughlin said. “But no. Everyone pressed so hard to find any space, any time that would work.”

Photo by Katherine McCabe / Gavel Media

Harrington revisited his freshman year stomping grounds on Newton Campus with his Keyes Hall floormates.

“We all took the Newton bus over together. We were singing and catching up and looking back on our freshman year memories,” he said. “I went to my old room, 206, and got to talk to the girls there. They were super sweet.”

Claire Wilson also took a break from partying to stop by her old double on Newton Campus. She was surprised to find the freshmen who lived there packing in silence.

“One thing I’ve noticed about senior year is that you’re in your own world. It’s all about the Mods and being 21 and the senior class,” she said. “You’re just so wrapped up in it that when you talk to someone who’s not a senior, you feel so disconnected. Your identity is so removed from the other classes and I really didn’t understand it until then.”

“It’s a stupid game of who has it worst. And when you all have it bad, you don’t need to play that game,” said Wilson.

Everyone had something they were looking forward to that was unceremoniously cancelled.

“I think a lot of people, when school was cancelled, had something that they felt like, ‘Wow, that’s never going to come to fruition,’” said Elizabeth Coughlin, MCAS ‘20. For her, it was Showdown.

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Just like Coughlin, Wilson didn’t want to graduate without performing one last time with her improv comedy troupe, My Mother’s Fleabag.

Although some members were weary of doing a show with such little preparation, Wilson convinced them. It’s improv, she insisted: They were always ready.

“It was so fun. We did it kind of drunk and took a shot in the middle of it,” Wilson said. “It was really fun to have some kind of closure with seniors you’ve gone through so much with. I never thought I’d be in my Fleabag shirt laughing and crying as people watch through the windows of a Mod.” Some groups couldn’t wrap up exactly the way Phaymus or Fleabag did. For Harrington’s sketch comedy group Hello… Shovelhead!, a last-minute performance just wasn’t in the cards. But they found closure in other ways.

“It’s a stupid game of who has it worst. And when you all have it bad, you don’t need to play that game.”

On Thursday, the group left campus to hold their semesterly retreat overnight, one that would usually last an entire weekend.

together. At 5:30 a.m., he got a familiar text: “dunkies?”

They waited for the store to open, grabbed coffees and hash browns, and headed to the reservoir together.

“It’s really hard to see the four years you’ve put into a group just crumble before you get the chance to finish out how you were meant to,” said Harrington, who is the group’s director. “So I was more than willing to sacrifice one of my nights for Shovelhead. I wouldn’t even call it a sacrifice when you’re with the people that give you as much energy as they take away.”

“I walked down holding White Claws,” Wilson said. “Some people were drunk, some were dead sober. We were all just kind of sitting out there. It was one of the more calming parts of Senior Week.”

Seniors were even able to throw together a makeshift Marathon Monday (on Tuesday) for those who had been training to run on April 20. The runners jogged from Main Gate down to St. Ignatius while their friends cheered from the sidewalk with signs.

By the time their final night rolled round, Harrington said, the seniors had fit in as much as they physically, mentally, spiritually could.

“It was very tiring, emotionally draining. People are crying everywhere but also having the best time and dancing and singing together. It’s a big mix of emotions.”

After a long night of partying or reminiscing or having long, tearful talks—but definitely not sleeping—things slowed down in the small hours of Sunday, March 15 as the seniors made their way towards the Chestnut Hill Reservoir.

Harrington and his roommate Aidan Fitzpatrick, CSOM ’20, had a semester-long ritual of going to Dunkin’ Donuts

“My favorite visual of the whole entire experience was walking to the reservoir and seeing just hundreds of seniors all sitting there hugging each other and crying with each other,” said Harrington. “We were sitting there as a whole grade for probably 30 to 45 minutes, just taking it all in.”

And then, in the light of dawn, the seniors gave their last hugs and started to leave. Normally, the hours after senior sunrise would be filled with nursing hangovers, putting on caps and gowns, and joining 2,500 classmates in Alumni Stadium. Instead, they nursed hangovers, put their things in boxes, and rushed to catch flights.

This year’s Senior Week was unusual for the obvious reasons: it came in March instead of May, there was no graduation at the end, its backdrop was a global pandemic.

But it was more than that. For once, there was no talk of post-grad plans, no competition. There was a mutual understanding that they were in this together. Those five days, in all of their chaos and uncertainty, brought solidarity and gratitude—maybe more than the Class of 2020 would have seen otherwise.

Photo by Ellen Gerst / Gavel Media

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Photo courtesy of Graydon Wood

movin’ out SPRING 2020 / KELLI RODRIGUES

Sunday 7:30 A.M. Enter: me, running on four hours of sleep, tears already streaming down my face as I raced down the stairs to let my dad into Walsh.

After four days of hugs, tears, and drowning my sorrows, the time had finally come to move out and confront the reality that awaited me upon my return home. The number of move out slips hastily posted on the door of every suite had gradually declined as the days went on, but many students had made the same decision as me: to wait until the last possible second to move out.

This was easy if you are lucky enough to live relatively close to BC, or could afford potentially more expensive transportation. For other students, though, leaving early was a difficult but necessary decision.

Some were worried about the spread of coronavirus, long before the majority of campus, and wanted to get home as soon as possible. For others, it came down to finances.

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“I left Friday because transportation was cheaper,” said Lazaro Alvelaez, CSOM ‘22. Buying a flight to Florida, as Lazaro would have had to do, with such short notice was costly, especially coming right off of Spring Break.

Arranging transportation was only one challenge associated with moving out. Storage was also an issue. Typically, students have weeks to prepare to pack up a year of their lives. They know when their last final is and have time to arrange things like storage facilities. With Easter break only a few weeks before finals, some also start taking some unneeded items, like winter clothing, home then.

This time around, those from long distances had to, on top of everything else, figure out what to do with all of their stuff.

Luckily, these students were not left behind.

Students who live locally and had space offered up their basements to those who needed it. People that could fit an extra bag or two in their cars shoved their friends’ items in. Friends came together to split the cost of a storage unit.

Professors and administrators rallied around their students. A spreadsheet created by BC Law with over 130 faculty members offering up storage, transportation, language services, or even a place to stay quickly made its rounds among the student body.

Offices like Montserrat and Learning to Learn reached out to their students, providing further resources and support. BC also provided thousands of free boxes and help with loading and moving items through Res Life staff and Piece-by-Piece movers, a company that also offered storage, albeit at a cost.

Still, these resources could only go so far. For some students, returning home was simply not an option.

Whether it be due to an unsafe environment, international travel restrictions, or a multitude of other reasons, staying on campus was the best option.

These students were able to apply for exemptions, and as of April 8, BC reported that 306 students remained on campus. Res Life moved these students from their academic year dorms to singles on Upper or CoRo. As a result, BC Dining had to shift its operations, as well. It is now operating only out of Carney’s with limited hours and only to-go options available. As seen by posts on its social media, Dining has erected plastic walls separating cashiers from students and is limiting the number of students allowed in the dining halls at one time. While students are trying to cope with this new normal, staff members are doing the same, trying to accommodate student needs and keep everyone safe and healthy.

Even though it may feel like it, the semester did not end once the majority of campus left. Despite a small reprieve, classes started in full force within days of move out. For some, this was a welcome distraction and way to pass the time.

For others, though, finding the motivation and focus to complete assignments was difficult. “I live in New York City and it’s just really difficult to sit here trying to learn physics when there’s thousands of people in my city dying,” explains Gabi Prostko, MCAS ‘22.

constant flurry of updates, from mainstream news sources to social media pages, many have been feeling anxiety or changes to their mental health. Add in the loss of coping mechanisms, such as time with friends or going to the gym, and it can become extremely difficult to focus on readings or assignments.

Even putting mental health aside, a change in environment may not be conducive to productivity.

“Now that I’m home, it’s been really difficult to find the motivation to do work. Part of the problem is that since I’m at home, it feels like I’m on break,” comments Josh Fording, MCAS ‘22. Being at home may also mean loss of access to quiet spaces or reliable WiFi, adding another hoop to jump through for students to succeed.

Due to these concerns, BC made the decision to allow students to declare any and all of their classes Pass/ Fail up to the last day of classes, helping to relieve the burden of worrying about grades or GPA. While not a perfect system by any means, it provided some reprieve for those who needed it. Professors have also been making accomodations and changes to their syllabi, taking into account feedback and trying to care for their students as much as possible.

With all of this anxiety and uncertainty, remaining connected has been more important than ever.

Professors, advisors, and other staff members have reached out to students to check in and to be there for those they care about.

Clubs are holding meetings, sending emails, and doing their best to support their members. Friends are scheduling Zoom calls and organizing game nights, dance parties, yoga classes, or catch-ups to make up for lost time. There are even new dating services for college students to meet matches from across the country over Zoom.

While students may have physically moved out, they did not leave the BC community behind. And with every show of care and support, I remain hopeful that we will somehow come out of this stronger and inspired to fight for those who need it.

This is a common sentiment, even from those who do not live in the epicenter of the pandemic. With the 21

their first reactions Shock and disbelief followed by tears, then anger, and then more tears. Overall I just felt cheated. I thought I had more time. I was supposed to have more time! There were still things I wanted to do, people I wanted to continue to get to know better, and senior events I was looking forward to. I felt the overwhelming need to try and cram everything I’ve ever wanted to do at BC into the next few days (while somehow also packing up my room and figuring out my next steps). I felt stressed.

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Meghan Boyer Definitely shock. I knew we were going to shut down eventually, but I had no idea it would be so soon or that it would be for the entire semester. I just felt very numb.

Sam Szemerenyi I froze. I called my mother immediately but I couldn’t say anything for what felt for forever. She kept saying my name in worry and finally I cracked. Bawling, I told her the news and I couldn’t stop crying.

Melissa Gaglia It didn’t hit me until maybe Friday that this was actually going to be my “Final Goodbye” to my friends, come six weeks too early. All the last things that I had been slowly tracking from the beginning of the semester were compressed into five days amidst a rush of tearful goodbyes and warm memories.

Noella D’Souza 22

We here at The Gavel know that the early end of the school year hit our seniors the hardest. That’s why we reached out to them, asking if they wanted a chance to rage, vent, or just explain how they’re feeling. So here’s a collection of moments, of memories, from those last five days on campus, courtesy of the members of BC’s unforgettable Class of 2020.

SPRING 2020 / THE CLASS OF 2020

enior

moments

the ups

Those five days are some of my saddest, yet happiest memories. I will never forget the “Senior Week” our class threw together with little notice. From flooding the Mods on that day we found out, to holding each other tight during senior sunrise, I have truly never felt a stronger sense of togetherness. I don’t think there is one particular moment that I could choose as the best part. The best part was the sense of community and togetherness over those last five days. You felt it in the countless hugs given, the last dinners shared with friends, the time spent in MAs and the Mods, watching the sunrise, BC community members offering any help they could, thoughtful “thinking of you” emails and texts, and so many other moments. That feeling of togetherness is what I will never forget from those last five days.

Natalie Spindler

the downs Saying goodbye. Thinking about all the plans and events you were looking forward to and realizing they’ll never happen.

Seeing people in the bars going from singing “Mr. Brightside” at the top of their lungs, to immediately crying in their friend’s arms. Watching every senior hit their breaking point was the hardest part of those few days, it hit everyone at different times, and you could just see when someone’s heart finally broke. At any given point someone was crying, and your heart ached for them, for yourself, for the whole Class of 2020. The saddest part was laughing with your friends but seeing all the pain behind our eyes - trying to enjoy those lasts moments but falling apart on the inside, knowing we weren’t fooling anyone.

Madison Choo

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and what they’ll miss most Everything. I’ll miss the people first and foremost, but something that these last five days taught me is that the relationships that are meant to last will always be with me. This is not goodbye, just a see you soon. I’ll miss the sense of community that I’ve gotten through the clubs and service groups that I’ve been so grateful to be a part of. I’ll miss BCMUN and the trips and the people from freshman year to know that club totally shaped so much of my BC experience. I’ll miss The Gavel and the amazing people and Features and how welcoming everyone was to me joining as a senior. Even the things I thought I hated like the long lines at Lower. I’ll miss being written up in Walsh Hall as a sophomore. I’ll miss the pre-exam stress and the post-exam relief. I’ll miss my Perspectives professor even though he was kind of the worst but he also taught be lessons that I’ve held with me since freshman year. I’ll miss Mod 27a even though I’m fake and actually lived in 2150.

Ashley Stauber I think the thing that I will miss most about BC is the sense of belonging that it gave me. Being on campus, there was always this feeling of being a part of something great. As students, we were involved in a lot of different things, whether it was a service club, a dance team, a job on campus, an intramural team, or even just our various groups of friends. We all had things that we were proud to be a part of, and that brought us joy in our time at BC. But, beyond the various groups that we were a part of, I think there was something greater that made BC special.

It’s hard to describe exactly, but I think at BC we’re very lucky to have an incredibly strong community, and a constant feeling of belonging to that community, no matter who you are. It’s something I noticed the first time I set foot on campus when I was visiting in high school. I could just tell that the students were proud to go to BC, that they had built a strong community with one another, and it really felt like they bought into the culture of the school. This was my first impression of BC, and now four years later I can say that I know what those students felt, and what it’s like to be a part of this amazing community that we have. This feeling of belonging was never stronger than during our last five days on campus together.

Despite all the chaos and emotions we were dealing with, trying to cram our last two months at school into five days, we were all in it together. The way we all came together to make the most of our last five days at school perfectly sums up the sense of belonging that was cultivated throughout our four years. This is what I’m going to miss the most about BC, but I’m confident that no matter where we all end up, we’ll always be a part of it.

Ryan Sugrue 24

Photo courtesy of Noella D’Souza

Photo courtesy of Madison Choo

Photo courtesy of Meghan Boyer Photo courtesy of Pimsiri Rojanaporn

Photo courtesy of Graydon Wood

Photo courtesy of Sam Szemerenyi

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Photo by Ellen Gerst / Gavel Media

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whatnow

No one said living through a world-historical event would be easy, but they really didn’t say it would be this hard. What’s the worst part? Could it be the crushing disappointment of finality lost to a pandemic? Or maybe it’s the anxiety of not knowing when we’ll be able to have coffee together again.

Regardless of what it is, we have to remember it in its entirety. And I hope that in 40 or 50 years, when this horrible event has been studied and analyzed, our government’s actions have been rightfully criticized, and our world looks fundamentally changed, someone will pick up a copy of this magazine and remember what it was like for our little corner of the universe, right here on the heights. I hope they see how at the center of it all were regular people, trying to get through it. I hope they see us.

So, what now?

How do we handle the current struggle of keeping our motivation afloat or not panicking about the future which, at this moment, seems so damn bleak?

We love and we hope. We hold on to an irrational knowledge that we will be back on campus soon, and that we will hug our friends and see our professors and mentors. That same love and hope is what propelled incredible mobilization and action from the BC community in just five days, organizing resources for students and giving seniors a shot at normalcy in abnormal times. Hell, even the oft-lethargic administration has offered to hold a graduation ceremony in October. If that doesn’t speak to the unifying power of a pandemic, I don’t know what will.

If anything has become apparent during this time it’s that there will never be a replacement for the college experience.

Slap a virtual reality headset on me and put me in digital Devlin 008 or — god forbid — a digital mod, but when the goggles come off I’ll leave wishing I was really there.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, will replace the ecstatic bliss of scarfing down warm nuggies at 1:55 a.m. with your best friends.

There simply is no adequate substitute for what we have.

The college experience has endured centuries. A microscopic virus can’t and won’t kill it.

Hold on to that irrational hope, and remember this time. Use this time to prepare for a future shrouded in uncertainty. Be good to yourself and to others. Let the rat race die for a bit, and get some fresh air.

Until then, Bang.

nico borbolla assoc. print editor 27

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