Future looks bleak to college seniors as they face graduation in a pandemic

I have no idea how to pass time. After scrolling through Twitter, FaceTiming with friends, and watching reruns of “The Office,” I am left bored, frustrated, and generally angry. My senior spring should have been spent with friends, celebrating accomplishments, lamenting defeats, and reveling in the shared experience of graduating from college.

I shift from wallowing in self-pity to rifling through possible explanations to brainstorming future possibilities. Unsurprisingly, none of these activities bring me joy. So I drink. And I play with my dog. I sometimes do handstands outside or hit a volleyball against the garage until my shoulders and arms ache, like the 14-year old who once occupied a permanent place in this house. But these pastimes have done little to improve my disposition.

Like the good Gen Z’er that I am, I cannot help but ask, how did people spend time before the internet? Twitter and Instagram had purportedly replaced in-person conversations and social gatherings (or so I have been told). However, as I scroll through friends’ and strangers’ posts, I become more frustrated and ill-at-ease. I used to expend this restless energy socializing with friends or hunkering down in the library to get ahead on my work. My mother says this is because I lack perspective, that this period is just a blip in time. But for those of us who were so close to approaching the finish line, this feels like a debilitating blow.

My friends and I know our concerns are meager compared to the plight of frontline health care providers, the 16 million who have lost their jobs, homeless populations and prison inmates everywhere. I think this recognition has prevented many 20-somethings from expressing the hurt, fear, and anxiety we are experiencing in the face of this global health and economic crisis. Nevertheless, our loss and sadness are real.

A friend called me yesterday in a tearful fit. She expressed how worthless this whole situation has made her feel. I wanted to jump in the car and go hug her, but per Andy’s recommendations, restrained myself, and spoke instead over the phone in a false tone of reassurance. After hanging up, I realized I felt the same. I anticipated feeling nervous about this transition into adulthood, but what I did not expect to feel was hopelessness. Under normal circumstances this transition is difficult and requires soul-searching. These circumstances are anything but normal. My newfound freedom to make choices is suddenly restricted, and the forthcoming months, a time that should be spent exploring career possibilities and imagining a new, exciting life, are instead bound by federal and state directives.

My friends and peers are also struggling. A friend from Turkey, who spent the last six months frantically searching for jobs, scrutinizing cover letters, making cold calls to alumni, and preparing extensively for interviews just received word that her visa was rejected. Numerous classmates have had job offers revoked or postponed in light of travel restrictions and economic uncertainty.

I seek not to relay one college senior’s experience, but rather offer a general indication of the frustration, anxiety, and sadness many in my generation currently feel. We no longer have the luxury of preparing for our next steps months in advance. Just as we approach the precipice of adulthood, we are stripped of the few remaining securities we had anticipated. The ever-growing economy, historically low unemployment, and thriving urban centers we put our faith in are no longer there. This pandemic is testing not only our physical health, but our mental and emotional health as well.

Structure helps bring order to our lives, but with so many workers laid off, children out of school, and students home from college, our classic modes of structure have disappeared. I have not yet devised a plan to bring order back to my life. But for the time being, I have decided to put my phone down and write an opinion piece in a small first effort to rejoin the world.

Rena Childers is a senior at Pomona College in California. She grew up in Lexington and graduated from Henry Clay High School in 2016.