There it is—the unmistakable sound of students packing up to leave before the class is over.

This is something that has happened in almost every class I’ve taken in my six semesters at Western, and I’m sure many other students have noticed it as well. It bothers me, and here’s why.

First, we are university students. We are here to learn and expand our horizons. Cliché? Sure. Idealistic? Probably. True? Absolutely.

A university degree may be necessary to get ahead in today’s job market, but that doesn’t mean students are just going through the motions while they’re here. Unlike high school, in university we get to choose our major and tailor our courses to suit our goals and interests. We should be interested in the topics we are being taught, and want to learn as much as we can.

When the prof says they’re going to summarize the important part at the end of a lecture, that means what they’re about to say is important. It doesn’t mean the lecture is over, and it doesn’t mean you should disrupt the students who are trying to listen to the lecture by shuffling your notes and zipping up your bag.

I know it isn’t always like that—maybe the lecture hall is stuffy, the seats are uncomfortable, or you didn’t have time to eat breakfast and you can’t wait to get to Centre Spot for lunch. But it’s a trend I notice consistently, and to me it says that students don’t care about the information they’ve paid thousands of dollars to have the privilege of learning.

Second, to start packing up—which is usually a loud and annoying process when undertaken en masse—before the lecture ends is beyond disrespectful to your professor. These are people who have devoted their lives to learning and teaching, and are passing on their immense knowledge to you. Do you think your prof doesn’t notice when a room full of immobile students starts fidgeting with their belongings, and they have to raise their voice to be heard over the commotion?

I can only imagine how discouraging it must be for a professor, who is lecturing on the pretence that their students are interested in what they have to say, to see half the class start packing up five minutes before the lecture ends. If you’ve managed to sit still and pay attention for an hour and 45 minutes, will another five minutes really kill you?

And how much time do you really save by packing up early, anyway? The whole process shouldn’t take you any longer than thirty seconds.

When you start packing your things before your lecture is over, you are sending a message. To your fellow students, you are saying, “I am so uninterested in this class I’ve chosen to take that I can’t bear to sit here a minute longer, and I don’t care if you can hear the prof.” To your professor, you are saying, “Your knowledge and experience are not interesting to me, and I’m only here to get a passing grade.”

So, next time you’re inclined to disrupt the end of a class, stop to ask yourself—if I can’t bother to listen to five more minutes of this lecture, then what am I even doing here?

It was atypical for many reasons—I grew up in a log cabin in the woods, lived outside of a town with a population of 400 and spent my summer vacations getting paid to “monitor” a beachfront parking lot. But one part of my childhood that I didn’t realize was so strange until recently was my deep, intimate knowledge of Groundhog Day.

You see, I grew up 10 minutes outside of the town of Wiarton, Ontario—home of Wiarton Willie, groundhog prognosticator to the world, or so I was told.

In this strange little bubble of midwestern Ontario, Groundhog Day was right up there with every other major holiday. If you’ve ever seen the movie Halloweentown, imagine that, but replace witches and goblins with senior citizens wearing fake groundhog ears.

Before young students even considered cutting out cardboard Valentine cards in my hometown, we were busy colouring in pages of Willie, which wasn’t all that exciting considering Willie is an albino groundhog, as we all know.

The town literally goes crazy for this holiday. If, in early February, you see a lineup of townsfolk at the local grocery store, arms brimming with salty snacks, you can bet it’s not for a Superbowl party—it’s for Groundhog Day.

There’s a whole festival for it—a bonspiel, a dance, a parade and even a beauty pageant. In fact, I’m very proud to say that this year my good friend’s little sister was named second princess in the groundhog pageant—even if she was robbed of the big crown.

At sunrise on Groundhog Day hundreds of people gather around Willie’s groundhog hole as the town mayor—who speaks “groundhogese”—asks Willie whether or not he saw his shadow. If he does, it means six more weeks of winter. But if he doesn’t, it means an early spring. Then everyone goes to the legion and has pancakes.

I really wish I was making some of this up. Growing up in the area, this seemed like perfectly normal happenstance. “Of course the mayor talks to a rodent once a year, of course the entire town misses work and school to find out Willie’s prediction,” I thought. “It’s perfectly normal for every 16-year-old girl to dream of winning the groundhog crown, right?”

But now, getting it all on paper, it suddenly seems very strange. And this also might explain all the bizarre looks I get from other Western students who had a more normal childhood when I start talking about Willie.

But today, on all days, I’m proud of my strange heritage. I could have had the same boring childhood as everybody else, but instead I was lucky to have been from a place with a little bit of character, even as silly as this particular character is.

There are pros and cons to everyone’s childhood, but I consider my knowledge of groundhog lore a unique—if strange—benefit of living in the Wiarton area.

Today, I’m proud to say that I’m looking forward to telling everyone who will listen about the funny little town where I grew up—and receiving that annual phone call from my mother, filling me in on Willie’s big prediction, without even an ounce of irony. Happy Groundhog Day, everyone!

The deaths of Zainab, Sahar and Gheeti Shafia, as well as Rona Mohammed, have been called one of Canada’s few official “honour killings,” an unfamiliar term to Western society that refers to the murder of a family member who has brought some sort of shame to the household. The term, as well as its application to the murder of these four women, has drawn some criticism from Muslim and Southeast Asian communities, who feel that its usage is unfairly focused on the cultural aspect of the Shafia trial.

Many have tried to frame the affair as a case of domestic violence—however, in doing so they are ignoring many of the chilling features of the brutal quadruple homicide. To be fair, the case has many aspects characteristic of domestic violence, but the comparison overlooks the conspiratorial nature of the crime at hand. Domestic violence is usually a systemic, but impulsive series of abuses, generally committed against a female by a male.

The Shafia trial revealed a deeper, more dangerous household mentality. Not only were the girls abused, but in the hierarchy of the family they were property, tokens of the father to denote his worth. The chilling, cruel manner in which Shafia spoke of his dead daughters spoke to a deep-seated mindset, that once the girls had “brought shame” to their family, they didn’t just deserve to die. They had to die. It is important to understand this mindset, as alien as it may seem to us.

This understanding is crucial in the lessons to learn from this horrific tragedy. The social programs in place must learn to deal with family pressures that prevent girls like Sahar Shafia or Aqsa Parvez—a 2007 honour killing victim—from actually receiving the help they need, even when they ask for it. Muslim community leaders, as many have in response to these crimes, must make efforts to break the mindset of “honour over life” that festers in the fringes of their communities and creates an environment for murders like these. Honour killing is a dangerous phenomenon that can lurk in the shadows of our society. The only way to deal with them is to bring them into the harshest spotlight—which starts when we call them by their name.

But another less noticeable aspect of campaign season also emerges at this time—the tendency for presidential candidates to request extensions on school assignments due to the sheer chaos of running in an election.  And often, these requests are easily granted by professors.

Now, I understand that there can be times when extensions are truly needed due to extracurricular involvements. Varsity athletes travelling out of the city may need to hand in an essay a few days late or postpone an exam because of an athletic injury. But does running for USC president qualify as a valid excuse to push back all assignments?

Essentially, USC president is a glorified job search. Sure, the campaign process can be fairly rigorous, but if students are foregoing the tedium of writing countless cover letters and personalized resumes to ship off to employers, is the campaign process really so much harder than what the average student has to go through?

If anything the “chaos” of running a campaign really boils down to nervousness and stress deriving from a few speaking engagements in front of hundreds of people, not the actual workload which can be divided among members of the campaign team. Tweeting and handing out personalized t-shirts doesn’t prevent a person from writing a 2,000 word essay on Freudian theory.

In fact, it would make a lot more sense to just hand a few things in early to lessen the workload if you’re that concerned about campaigning being overly hectic.

Another issues lies with the willingness of professors to grant such extensions simply because of the glamorous nature of campaigning and the Western connection. It seems to be one of the few areas, besides medical accommodation, that qualifies for such a thing. Yet students asking for extensions due to other job applications, however, may not be so fortunate.

But perhaps the biggest argument to be made here is the argument of time management. USC president is considered to be a fairly esteemed and important role at Western, overseeing many aspects of campus life. Thus, one would expect an individual running for the position to be able to juggle several things at once.

In a way, asking for extensions on school assignments is like conceding that multi-tasking and efficiently managing your time isn’t one of your strong points. If one of the first things you do at the beginning of a semester is approach your professor and ask for an extension well in advance, perhaps you should seriously reconsider whether your skill set is strong enough for the job.

Everyone needs an extension at one time or another. Maybe the mental stress of running for president is truly overwhelming and you need to take a few mental health days. But assuming a month in advance that you’re going to be too busy—essentially exploiting your candidacy—isn’t the right approach. Instead, try proving to everyone, and yourself, that you’re up for the job.

The famous words once sung by Joni Mitchell seem oddly pertinent to my life right now. And no, it’s not because I’ve gone through some devastating break-up, because I haven’t. Still single—very, very single. But let’s not go down that road, and instead let me steer this column back on course.

What I’m actually referring to is the recent announcement that Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia and every student’s study tool, is shutting down for 24 hours. Today, Wikipedia is no more—at least until tonight at midnight. Meaning, today there will be lots of confused and desperate students wondering what the heck their textbook is talking about, and having no access to a simplified translation.

The reason for the English-language version of Wikipedia blackout is to protest the proposed Stop Online Piracy Act and Protect Intellectual Property Act, better known as PIPA and SOPA, which are currently under consideration in Congress.

The bills, which are meant to prevent online piracy and protect the unauthorized sale of US products and intellectual property overseas, have been gaining a lot of attention lately due to some controversial provisions in the bill that would essentially give the US government the right to immediately shut down any website that is suspected of pirating material, or compel search engines to remove any links to sites suspected of copyright infringement.

Basically, it’s an issue of censorship.

Now I’m no expert, and I’ll admit that I wasn’t very aware of SOPA, other than knowing it’s that thing they talk about a lot on Reddit.com—consequently another website that is blacking out in protest. I actually only found out about the blackout through a tweet from one of my colleagues here at the Gazette who was lamenting about the fact that he’d have to finish all his assignments early because Wikipedia was going down.

So I immediately went to Google.com—again, another site that would be affected by these bills—and browsed for the latest news on the blackout to become better educated about what these bills were proposing. It’s interesting that in the last few sentences I’ve revealed to all of you how much my life revolves around the Internet, and therefore the very thought of some of these websites being shut down due to a law passed in the United States makes me want to cry like a girl who just got dumped via text message (again, didn’t actually happen).

But to return to my original statement, you don’t really appreciate how much you rely on something until it’s gone, which is exactly why these large websites are using this tactic to demonstrate how much we rely on these technologies. And this strategy is completely effective.

The blackout is an extreme reaction to an extremely irrational law, but perhaps it takes this type of action to get people’s attention.

For example, before today I had heard grumblings on the Internet about the proposed laws, but it wasn’t until I heard my precious Wikipedia would be taken away that I actually took the time to care, read about the issue and become informed. And Wikipedia founder Jimmy Wales probably hopes many people have this reaction, which is why he’s urged US citizens to contact their local members of Congress to oppose the bill.

I’ve immediately become passionate about a cause that I had almost no knowledge about two days ago, and I’d be willing to bet that after “Black Wednesday”—I don’t know if that’s a thing yet, I just decided to call it that—many other people who were in the dark about SOPA and PIPA before might immediately become filled with hatred about the restrictions they would introduce.

Would the bills pass if these blackouts weren’t occurring? Probably not, especially considering the Obama administration has already suggested they would oppose any anti-piracy laws that would encourage censorship.

But these blackouts bring the issue to the forefront of people’s minds, merely imitating the concept that our free speech could be censored, and you’ve immediately got almost the entire Internet community on your side.

The Spoke renovations will lead to shorter lines and delicious bagels—two positive changes that I’m sure most students will welcome. As the student population continues to grow, this was a necessary change for the Spoke to remain competitive, and I am glad the University Students’ Council recognized that.

But what upgrades are being installed in the atrium, you ask? Well, in lieu of an empty space, we got a purple space with a bench, and tables and chairs will hopefully be arriving shortly. I have nothing against seating areas, but I think the atrium renovations require a closer look.

That new space cost $60,000. Of that, $50,000 came from the remnants of the USC’s gym renovation budget, and $10,000 came from the University. Statistically speaking, that’s more than you’ll make in a year at your first job after university.

The money left over from the gym budget had to be spent. But was a seating area in the atrium really something that is most beneficial to students, or was there a better way that the USC could have spent this money?

Several USC services that provide real, life-enhancing benefit to students could do with a funding boost. For example, Ally Western has an annual budget of just over $3,500, and Pride Western receives $7,675. Meanwhile, the USC executive retreat, which provides little tangible benefit to most students, has an annual budget of $14,500. Perhaps that $50,000 could have been used to help address discrepancies like this instead?

Not only were the renovations financially problematic, but the way in which they were authorized was democratically questionable.

The renovations were approved in an emergency session of council originally called to authorize the upcoming health plan referendum. Because it was an emergency session, the usual requirement that motions must be posted a week in advance was waived. This allowed the renovation motion to be snuck into the agenda without giving councillors time to adequately consider it.

Council was presented with a hasty overview of the plans for the renovation before the vote, and the motion passed with little debate. Work in the atrium started the next morning.

If you know anything about renovations, you know a job the size of the one in the atrium requires designs, preliminary consultations and meetings weeks before anyone dons a hard hat. The fact that work began the day after the vote means the executive council had been planning for at least a few weeks, and more than likely had already started to spend money—the preliminary steps aren’t free.

The executive council assumed—albeit correctly—the motion would pass, treating council as a rubber-stamping procedure to authorize work that was already scheduled to begin before councillors knew anything about it.

It’s nice to have a few more places to sit—after all, it’s nearly impossible to find a seat in Centre Spot at lunchtime, and that corner of the atrium was under-used. But the absurdly high cost of the project outweighs the benefit to students—especially when there are better ways that money could have been spent. Worse, the renovations were planned with little regard for due process, rushed through council, and lack transparency.

Democracy is not a formality. In the future, the executive council should show more respect for the democratic process, and for students’ money.

The candidates seem to have a lot of things in common, but one subject on which their individual opinions vary is the theory of evolution. Rick Santorum, Ron Paul and Rick Perry seem to reject evolution, Newt Gingrich and Mitt Romney seem to believe in a divine creation as well as evolution, and Jon Huntsman apparently accepts both evolution and global warming, even going so far as warning against the dangers of the GOP becoming an anti-science party.

This is a bit of an American tangent, but watching this group gets me thinking about something that will probably be an exciting conversation topic at a party if I ever get to go to one—the importance of scientific literacy.

It seems balls-to-the-wall crazy that people in the running to rule the most powerful country in the world—a country with such a rich history of scientific achievements and discoveries—can outwardly reject what in many ways is the foundation of modern biology. I mean, it’s equivalent to asserting that the sun revolves around the Earth.

And although Canada does not boast a “bible belt,” this sort of selective ignorance of accepted theory happens in our country as well. Gary Goodyear, our minister of state for science and technology, does not believe in evolution. My grade 12 biology teacher admitted to us that he “may not agree with what he’s teaching” when he skimmed through the evolution unit, which is the equivalent of a physics teacher not agreeing with gravity.

But what reason does the average person have for “believing” in evolution? The theory, as well as the collection of evidence supporting the theory, is complex. It takes quite a bit of education to understand the principles driving evolution. Without taking the time to understand the idea for themselves, many people just flat out reject it as some crazy guess snobby scientists came up with.

Although ideas should not be accepted without evidence—evolution included—ideas also should not be rejected without evidence. Explanations for everything science asserts is readily available. It’s been collected by thousands of people who have devoted their lives toward finding out the most correct explanations for things that they possibly can, and these explanations be found in countless textbooks and on the same Internet I referenced earlier. So allowing people—especially people in charge of teaching and promoting these fields—to make up their own story about how the world works is just nonsensical.

The scientific method needs to be explained and encouraged in school. The difference between a theory and a hypothesis, which boils down to the difference between an explanation and a guess, needs to be something every person is aware of. And the idea that science is just one team in a battle of beliefs is an idea that needs to be expelled from our minds.

The scientific community strives to discover the truth about everything it possibly can, and continues to develop methods to ensure what it consider truth is as correct as possible. Science’s goals are apolitical, and its discoveries are almost always at least stepping stones towards life-improving innovations.

We pride ourselves on being one of the most progressive countries in the world—can we stop acting like science is some sort of controversy?

Christmas—it’s where you can be a kid again!

Okay, so I may have “borrowed” most of that slogan from a Walt Disney World advertisement, but I think in this case Walt—I assume he and I would be on a first name basis—will make an exception for Christmas. After all, it’s a time when dreams come true.

I was trying to pinpoint exactly why everyone likes Christmas—to be politically correct if you do not celebrate Christmas replace it with the appropriate holiday. I pondered for a while and then I came up with a hypothesis as to what the allure of Christmas is, and I think it all boils down to feeling like a kid again.

Think about it—the holidays are a time when we get to escape the stresses of school and reunite with family and friends from our past.

Even the idea of going home has a nostalgic feel because at least for the first 24-hours my parents, who are currently suffering from a mild case of empty-nest syndrome, are actually happy to see me and it feels like I’m their little girl again. But this feeling quickly dissipates and I’m soon back to being a lazy university student who’s only good for eating their food.

Christmas is a time when hot chocolate replaces coffee and candy and cookies replace nutritious food. It’s a time when snow becomes tolerable because it reminds you of your days in the schoolyard catching snowflakes on your tongue, snowball fights and building forts. It also creates a nice backdrop that looks exactly like all the Christmas cards you receive from people you barely speak to.

And who doesn’t enjoy watching Christmas movies? Classic movies like the animated version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, the early claymation technology version of Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer, or quite possibly Will Farrell’s best film, Elf, act like a time machine transporting us back to a simpler time.

Sure we’ve seen these movies many times before, but around Christmas they cease to feel tired and old. Instead, watching them reminds you of a time when you were a kid, sitting on the couch eating cookies and identifying with Hermey and all those misfit toys.

Maybe we’re older now and the mystic aura of Santa Claus may have worn off, but if you watch The Polar Express and don’t shed a tear when Josh Groban’s “Believe” comes on, then you have no soul.

It’s a common around this time of year to look past all the commercialization of the holidays, and think about non-material gifts like spending time with friends, and donating both your time and money to charities.  That is a very important and wonderful part of this time of year—in fact, yesterday we ran a column all about that. So that means I’m allowed to go the opposite way and say what we’re all thinking—presents are pretty great.

Sure, we might not wake up at 6 a.m. and race downstairs to see what’s under the tree, but the anticipation is still there. Knowing that you’ll at least have a few surprises for you makes you feel like, well, a kid on Christmas. And giving presents feels good too.  Your presents might have surpassed the standard childhood gift of a macaroni collage on construction paper—no offence if it is—but I’m sure you still feel that ping of excitement when a loved one enjoys the gift you gave them.

For all these reasons, and many more, the holidays are a time that at least for a day or two we can stop worrying about the impending future. Maybe it’s not healthy, and I’m just living in denial. Maybe I should be using my holidays to get ahead on readings and apply for internships. But I think, at least for a few days, I’ll just sit back watch A Charlie Brown Christmas and wonder why everyone hates Charlie so much.

Don’t get me wrong, when I was a child I wanted the newest Barbie dolls, crafts and Cabbage Patch Kids, but as I’ve aged I’ve realized that none of these items mean much. The enjoyments of these toys were gone as fast as the snow turned to slush and my sights turned to the newest, coolest toy.

As I grew up I realized the holidays are not about the presents you receive, but the family and friends you spend time with.

There was an article in the New York Times last year titled “But will it make you happy?” which was about a couple who lived in a two bedroom apartment in California, owned two cars and had successful careers—but they weren’t happy. They described their lives as being caught up in the “work-spend treadmill.” They became inspired by books and blogs about living simply and began donating their belongings to charity and winnowed down their personal items to only 100 things. Now they live in Portland in a spare 400-square-foot studio. He is completing a doctorate in physiology,  she is now a freelance writer and they own four plates, three pairs of shoes and two pots.

This story made me think—what makes me happy?

I would love to say after reading this article I donated all of my belongings, I didn’t go to that extreme, but I won’t be asking Santa for a long list of useless items this year. Instead, I want this Christmas to be about family, friends and helping others.

Having a Kindle or iPad under the tree on Christmas morning would not make me genuinely happy—it would be fun for a little while, but at the end of the day it won’t mean much. Instead I plan to spend my time volunteering at the Canadian Centre for Abuse Awareness and spending quality time with my family and friends.

Instead of asking your parents for a new smartphone, why not ask to go away for a week or volunteer with your family? The time you spend with your family and the memories that are made will last a lot longer than the life of a phone or computer. For 364 days a year we are all caught up in work, school and just the usual day-to-day stresses. Christmas should be the one day of the year that family and friends should put their phones and computers away and focus on spending time together.

What benefits will a new BlackBerry or the latest iPad really have in your life? For the price of an iPad you can purchase a herd of goats for a community in a developing country or for the cost of a DVD you can purchase seeds, farming tools and training in pest and farm management through organizations like Plan International. I am positive that a new gadget will not change your life, but for a little bit of money you can change a person’s life.

As Christmas slowly approaches think long and hard about what will make you happy or how you would like to spend your time.

While my undergraduate days are now behind me, I remember all too well the late night, Quotes-fuelled session in Weldon and the endless stream of theses and secondary sources that filled my late November days.

It’s easy to just want to get it over with when you’re staring down four essays, five exams and a seminar presentation. Naturally, with the golden light of the holiday break at the end of the tunnel, we tend to put our heads down and plough through our work, just checking off the days until freedom. But let me suggest a less popular perspective—how about appreciating the work you’re doing?

Hopefully you chose your major for a reason. At some point in your education you genuinely enjoyed musing over Marshall McLuhan, or pondering Pythagoras’ theorem. It may seem like a distant dream, but surely there was some excitement your first day of classes. Think back to that wide-eyed frosh you once were and try to take some time to glean at least a little enjoyment from the tediousness of exams and assignments.

University, despite what some students might like to think, isn’t just a vending machine for bachelor’s degrees. We shouldn’t resign ourselves to just getting through the academic side of our university experience, but truly make an effort to appreciate that we’re being intellectually challenged, spending our days thinking and reading about things we may never get the chance to engage with again.

Sure, by your fourth essay in a month, it’s harder to get excited about whatever theories or ideas you’re wrestling with, but I challenge you to try anyway. If you take an interest in your work, you’ll probably be more successful. In my experience in 4½ years of higher education, students perform better academically when they are interested in the subject matter.

On the occasions when I managed to really push myself to consider the material I had to work with, and find an angle that truly interested me, I always achieved higher grades and was happier with my work. But grades aside, you’ll be getting more out of your education.

Do you really want to look back once convocation rolls around and realize you just “got through” your undergraduate degree? Wouldn’t you rather reflect fondly on the time you took to enjoy your education?

We as university students are extremely privileged to even get to study at a post-secondary level. Lots of people in our own backyard would sacrifice a lot just to get such a chance—in fact, lots of Western students have done just that.

So the next time you’re groaning over that last 1,000 words or the final few chapters you have to study, step back and enjoy the fact that you have such a wonderful opportunity at your fingertips.

Disclaimer: I’m writing this column on a lack of sleep. It’s been a long semester and my fountain of ideas is running dry. I’ve also set limits and refuse to write a column about Christmas before the month of December. Spoiler Alert: look out for it next week.

So bear with me or just skip on ahead to those letters and “Dear Lifes” that surround this column. But if you enjoy farfetched rants then follow along.

Something is up. I don’t know what it is, but I just have a feeling something fishy is going on, not only in London, but everywhere.

Don’t believe me? I’ve spent the last hour carefully investigating and I think I’ve managed to compile a list of evidence that back up my claim.

Exhibit A. We made it to the end of November with no snow—what the heck? Not that I’m complaining—unlike the song, I dream of a dry, grey Christmas. But regardless of my disdain for snow, it doesn’t take away from the fact that it should be happening, especially in London right this second. Instead we’re getting showered with melted snow, otherwise know as rain.

We’ve only got a week left of classes this semester and we’ve yet to see any viable excuse for snow. Do they expect us to actually attend the last three days of classes this year? I don’t know what’s going on here, but I should be trudging through snow in my horridly uncomfortable—but Western-girl approved—Sorel boots and instead I’m left sweating in my winter coat because of “unseasonably warm weather.”

What else, you ask, is going on that’s so out of the ordinary? Exhibit B—Tim Hortons’ lattes and cappuccinos. Yes, that’s right—Tim Hortons now sells fancy specialty coffee. What are you doing Tims? Who are you trying to be, Starbucks? Tim Horton would be rolling over in his grave at this recent menu addition.

There used to be something so pure and innocent in the Tim Hortons’ menu—there was no deciphering between a long venti frappa mocha skinny cappuccino. You just ordered a coffee—or sometimes a tea—and the most complicated part of your order would be asking for three milks rather than two.

You’ve changed, Tim Hortons. I don’t even know you anymore.

And because these things usually come in threes, I present Exhibit C as to why the world has gone crazy. Nickelback, Canada’s Achilles heel, is shockingly still making music, and even more shockingly, getting booked for halftime shows.

They played at both the Grey Cup and the American Thanksgiving game between the Green Bay Packers and the Detroit Lions, much to the disappointment of all North American football fans.

How did they get booked? Was there really absolutely no other band in the world that could have performed in their place? The only answer I can come up with is that Chad Kroeger is able to control people’s minds with his unrelentingly harsh stare and predictable guitar riffs.

If you’ve stuck with this—and I applaud you if you have—you may be wondering, what do these three things have to do with each other? The likely answer is probably nothing. But imagine if they did—I’d look like a genius.

We received feedback from current and former sophs and O-staff, some of them well thought out and constructive, all of them clearly written by very passionate people. The general feedback on the article seemed to be that it was one-sided and somewhat sensationalized. And although some people were happy to see such an issue being addressed, others were upset and considered the article to be a smear piece against the sophing program.

The article was written with the purpose of exploring exactly what the title implied—the negative sides of sophing. It’s true that the positive side of sophing—which anyone who sees our campus during O-Week would agree is substantial—was not given its fair coverage. But like an investigation into, say, gun violence in our city, we were focusing only on the unglamourous aspects of an issue. Much like we wouldn’t reassure readers of the positive, family-friendly aspects of London despite the existence of gun violence, we chose not to delve into the “light side” of sophing. We weren’t intending to do a piece on the entire sophing program, but rather the less-talked-about dark side of sophing—the hope being that the existence of the more prominent positive side was implied.

It’s been suggested that we intentionally highlighted the bad parts of the program and sensationalized the piece with the cover art. This was not done maliciously. We tend to put a feature story on the front page of Friday’s newspapers, and we try to design the cover with a short, catchy headline and eye-catching art. Perhaps it is sometimes sensationalizing—but this is done only to engage readers, to make the world of sophing interesting to those outside of the program.

With that being said, we weren’t digging around for words to twist, and we weren’t attempting to create controversy out of nothing. The fact that a soph charter of rights has been suggested is proof enough that the subject at least warrants some sort of discussion. The reasons behind such a charter were investigated, and the results were reported.

Blame has been placed upon us for giving a voice to an unpopular opinion. That individuals quoted in the article have had threats made against them under the anonymity of the Internet is something that I sincerely hope is not indicative of the program’s overall attitude. As I mentioned, I’ve seen plenty of constructive criticisms and additions to the discussion, and I’m glad to hear from people who truly mean it when they say they love sacrificing their sleep and well-being “for the frosh.”

The Gazette’s collective thoughts on the implementation of such a charter of rights was available on the fourth page of Friday’s issue in our editorial board discussion. We concluded, “while nobody wants to see anybody abused, nobody wants to see sophs lose the insanity that makes them who they are.”

We never intended to come off as biased or malicious, but we are always open to criticism. Hopefully this and all future discussions can remain constructive and civilized.