We know why you’re here. The add/drop deadline has come and gone. What did you do? Nothing. You forgot. Now you’re in a class you don’t want to be in. At this point, all hope might seem completely lost. How can you escape? Is it worth it just to “take the W” on your transcript? No, that’s too easy. Your best bet is “quiet-quitting.” Now, this may sound like a millennial buzzword, but it’s so much more than that — it’s the most important academic tool a lazy student who can’t keep track of deadlines could ever have. Now, I’m not targeting anyone in particular… but just know that I know who you are.
To preface, quiet-quitting is a tried and true method to get out of things you don’t want to do. I know you used to go above and beyond for professors who still have yet to remember your name. Stop doing that immediately. You can no longer be liked — you must slowly and methodically become the worst student you can be.
(Neither myself nor The Ubyssey are liable for any failing grade acquired using these methods.)
When beginning this task, the best idea is to act wide-eyed and confused — no one will question you if you are questioning them. Halting any and all forms of participation is essential. You used to smile in class? Well, now you’re frowning. Provided attentive eye contact? No, wear sunglasses. Used to be an active listener? That sucks, now you’re actively not listening. But, you may ask, “what if someone throws in a wildcard?” If, say, the professor targets you to answer a question, don’t be frightened. If you find yourself in this situation, simply walk out. Your next best option is to completely disengage with the material. It is essential that you only talk when you aren’t supposed to. Take that important phone call in the middle of the lecture. Better yet, put your phone on speaker — your classmates will appreciate listening in on your long-winded virtual doctor’s appointment. Next, stop doing your readings. I know that you love doing them, but it’s best to ice them out. In order to succeed at sucking as a student, you have to dive in completely blind. If asked about the readings, just say that it “really resonated with you” or perhaps that it touched your heart — even if it’s a 20-page journal article on worm mutation.
Let’s address the time management skills that you’ve been honing since high school: throw them out the window. First class at 10 a.m.? Show up at 15 past 10 a.m. If anyone tries to clock you, the old “my bus was late” or “the feral rats that live in the walls of my shitty student rental ate my homework” works every time. After showing up late into class, dilly dally, maybe order DoorDash if you’re hungry. Do everything in your power to not pay attention, even if your educated heart yearns for it. A strategy I’ve found works for me is bringing a cot to class — after your snack time, you’re bound to get a bit sleepy. I also enjoy bringing my speaker to play melodic whale sounds for a soothing rest.
When it’s time to leave, obviously you have to leave early. If you’re packing up your cot, do so as loudly as possible. This will assert your dominance over the class, so that no one would even question it if, suddenly, you stopped showing up — they know you mean business. If, god forbid, you have “participation marks” and “need to seem somewhat engaged,” of course, fake it. Print out a life-sized cutout of your body and have it attend classes for you — professors won’t even notice the difference. Most students stare blank-eyed, unmoving during lectures anyway, though you could add googly eyes to be more faithful to your subject.
If you’ve successfully implemented these strategies, you’ve mastered the art of quiet quitting. For that, you’ll be rewarded; there’s actually a lesser-known student resource built for sneaky quitters like yourself. UBC wants you to feel supported in your quest for academic apathy, so they built a special feature into Workday: sometimes, the thing just magically forgets it registered you in a course.
Though some may call this the “most gruelling, useless, stressful waste of millions of dollars imaginable,” I like to think of it as the institution’s way of validating quiet quitters. Some students chase the highs of a good grade, but we at The Ubyssey prefer the ecstasy of sitting on the phone with advisors for 18 hours after the entirety of your academic record vanishes on a random Thursday.
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