You see her every Tuesday and Thursday, smiling to greet you. She pats the desk next to hers, gesturing for you to sit down. You ask her what the homework was for class.
“Oh, just to read chapter three. No worries, though, I’ve got you covered.”
She is pleasant. She is timely. She is your class friend.
In an age of classwide Google documents and listserv emails from classmates claiming that their computer “really did crash,” and now they “don’t have the notes from all of March,” some might assume the class friend is a dying breed. But I assure you that with some strategizing, some good luck and a little bit of magic, you too can find one of your very own.
Class friends can bring out the best in you. You learn together, grow together and text each other about how awkward your teaching assistant is.
Class friends handle you at your worst. When you’ve fallen out of bed, pulled on sweatpants and panted to your 9 a.m. recitation, they see you sit down, and they know. Today is not your day, and group work is just not on your list of things to do. They take over the brunt of the work, understanding that you’d do the same for them when they traipse into class with a Gatorade in one hand and a coffee in the other.
But there exists a rare, very excellent class friend known only to those who have experienced her joy and never-ending office supplies as the “Mary Poppins” of class friends. She was given this nickname for her ability to pull any item you might need out of her bag. Need a paper clip? She has one. Need to borrow a Lenovo charger? Yep, that too. Need to borrow a stapler? Yes, Mary even has a stapler. When you’ve found your Mary, hang onto her. She’s a rare one.
She’s always in class, her laptop is always charged, and yes, she even did the reading. Sometimes you wonder if she’s a real person or if she’s some sort of fairy godmother, sent there to be your guiding light through French 105. And then, with the very last exam, just like that ... she’s gone.
You both intuitively understand the class friend “arrangement.” You’ll see her the next semester, ask her how her summer was and both pretend to plan a lunch that you each know won’t happen. Later, you can write on her wall for her birthday or text her an inside joke about your professor, but I’d advise you to be hesitant when you start to think about taking things to the next level. If there’s no spark left within two weeks of the end of the semester, it will not happen. Never. I know; I’m sorry.
