Confessions of a sleepaholic

I have never been a morning person. The hardest part of junior year wasn’t the rigorous course load, but waking up in time to actually make it to class. So imagine my surprise when I learned that for five weeks of my long-awaited summer hibernation I would be forced to rise before 8:30 a.m. Not only would I have to wake up at this ungodly hour five days a week, but I would be faced with the punishment of waking up even earlier for spit list if I was ever a minute late. This would be harder than any AP class.

I arrived at the Northwestern-Medill Journalism Institute with a small drugstore alarm clock and the faith that I would have the will power to wake up because it would be to learn a subject that I love. I should mention that the word naïve was stamped across my forehead. It is only because of the kindness of my roommate Hanna Bolaños that I haven’t been kicked out of the program for excessive tardiness.

Every morning after my alarm clock rings and I turn it off seconds later, Hanna wakes me up a second time. Wrapped in my comforter like a burrito, I have no intention of moving, but Hanna never gave up on my sloth ways.

I can’t generalize about the roommate experience at this program, but mine has been pretty exceptional. Not only is Hanna the world’s most patient human alarm clock, but she is witty, talented and has become one of my best friends at the program. I have learned through being her roommate the virtues of discipline and selflessness. And I have only been spit listed twice.