Online school monsters are closer than you think

We’ve been back in person for a while now, and things feel normal again. There are hordes of people on Main Mall all bustling to get to class on time and we’re back to seeing people’s actual faces (at least the top half of them) instead of black boxes. We are no longer losing our minds in online school. Things seem okay.

But lurking just beneath the surface of eager faces and N95 masks are the horrid habit creatures that have changed us for the worse. Some of us have yet to kick our monstrous online personas to the curb. I fear some of us may never recover from the monsters we’ve become. Lucky for you, I’ve broken down some of the most common monsters — sorry, people — you’ll find in your classes.

Time management minotaurs

Characterized by a confused facial expression and the feeling of being trapped in a maze of readings, this is the level one monster that we all succumb to at one point or another.

Online school only exacerbated this transformation for many students, potentially to a point of no return. The minotaur has a terrible time managing all their different courses, frantically submitting projects at 11:55 every other night. With their camera off and a participation mark coming from a two-sentence discussion board post, this monster festered until it emerged fully formed with enough strength to scroll social media during class and succumb to the call of naptime.

Now that we’re back in person, time management minotaurs have a hard time in class discussions, only contributing when the discussion connects to the first reading of the term (the only one they’ve completed).

They are most likely to be found hiding in a library, using their reading break for actual reading, and if they’re lucky, you might just see a person instead of a minotaur when we return.

Impulse control vampires

This is a very particular type of monster.

During online school, we got comfortable with our muted microphones and black boxes. When that one prof went on a tangent or someone was playing devil’s advocate or even when your comp-sci TA hid a bug in your code, the vampires could simply say whatever choice words to their computer with no repercussions.

But in person, when those moments happen, there is no mute button to save the vampires from looking like an asshole. Like a thirst for blood, their impulse control runs rampant and without a safety net, they earn a reputation for being self-absorbed.

These monsters learned to tune out their professor during Zoom calls, opting for an unrelated conversation in the chat, and are quick to realize there is no chat function during in person class and that talking over your teacher is considered quite rude.

The vampires will have a harder time reverting back to people and will occasionally let some commentary slip, but they aren’t doomed for eternity.

Pessimistic zombies

This is the worst kind of monster, yet quite possibly the most common. Pessimistic members of the undead are characterized by uncertainty, tired bodies and a lack of faith in any preventative measures. With a shot of espresso, they become hard to spot, blending in with crowds from every faculty and major. The re-emergence of Zoom University brought back feelings of dejection as we fell to the fate some hoped to avoid. Between the discontinuation of the vaccine declaration program and professors being encouraged not to tell their classes about positive cases, zombies are the most justified monsters, and thus, the hardest to get rid of.

Although many zombies are happy and eager to get back to waking up more than five minutes before class and finding a seat in the now-crowded libraries, there is a lurking fear that we haven’t seen the last of online learning. While it might not be this year, no one can convince a pessimistic zombie they won’t have to hear the words ‘Professor, you’re on mute’ ever again.

Whatever monster you have turned into, let’s hope you can find a way to banish it back under your bed. And whatever you do, don’t name your monster self. In the wise words of Mike Wazowski, “Once you name it, you start getting attached to it.” And believe me, you cannot afford to get attached to these monster personas. They need to go.