WHILE MANY juniors dream of going to campus these days, I dreaded returning to campus in September. After a 19-month break, I was scared to set foot in the halls of Yonsei University. It wasn't as if I disliked university life in general; quite the contrary, it was once my dream to walk the clean concrete slates of Baekyang noori. What haunted me was my loneliness rooted in the lack of friends on campus. All my college mates were off in the real world, doing "real" stuff. A majority of them had graduated and begun work, started at law school, or were off on a "life-altering" volunteer work with the United Nations. I, on the other hand, had 2 years of college ahead of me with classmates born in a different millennium.

   I had just returned from the army—in case you couldn't tell—which meant that I was far behind my friends in life. During the 585 days I spent shoveling holes in the ground, my mates continued on with their lives, exploring the world, picking up pieces from here and there, and figuring out the puzzle of life. They waved goodbye to me with college diplomas in their arms, while I was left dazed, confused, and completely out of my zone.

   In desperation, I quickly devised a plan to catch up with my friends. As the semester started, I pushed myself outside of the classroom. Following the footsteps my friends had left, I immersed myself in extracurricular activities to build up my resume. I wrote an essay about nuclear nonproliferation for the Korea Times, won a prize at the Korean Model EU Conference, received a perfect score in my TOEFL, got certified as a Microsoft Office Specialist, and TA-ed for a course to improve my prospects at graduate school. I was even brave enough to join The Yonsei Annals, writing several articles a month. My identity as a political science major became a side hustle. Everyday Zoom classes almost became a distant white noise, fading out the more imminent priority of becoming an eligible member in the job market. I attended online lectures at twice the regular speed, bribed off past year exam papers from my seniors, and got a straight-A semester. The semester's most memorable memory was not a former Minister of Foreign Affairs talking about an Asian Green New Deal but was me participating in a virtual award ceremony through my phone during his class.

   After the end of an unprecedented semester, I finally had a chance to meet up with my political science college friends during the winter break. I felt a little more confident, more prepared to meet them. I was finally in my third year and was doing an internship. Our conversation revolved around our long working hours, horrible bosses, and the lack of a girlfriend. More importantly, we rallied around how useless our degrees had been, teaching us very little and preparing us even less for the job market of the real world. "I should have applied to be a business major" we all sighed.

   So, what did I learn during the semester as a political science major? Looking back, I could not remember a single phrase from Weber or Kant, whose readings I analyzed into long, coherent essays. They had all disappeared to the sleepless nights of correcting my internship application. Come to think of it, valuable class content had literally come in one ear and out the other; I probably made no intellectual growth throughout the semester.

   Looking back, I question whether I had even given my political science major a chance before I incessantly complained about its lack of utility. Political science is one of the oldest and most complex subject matters in the history of academia, yet I have never put enough time and effort to pass any judgment about this field. Since when did half-hearted attempts to learn translate to knowledge? Maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophecy and that is why my degree is worthless after all.

Being busy is not doing more. Your stress levels have little correlation with the amount of progress you are making in life. Not one outlook is ever universal; some are in positions where they have to be their busiest selves. Either way, my hectic bok-hak life has been a revelation that there is much to be learned in focusing on what we are supposed to be focusing on at the moment. As the next semester starts and jobs become harder to find for humanity majors, I for one expect to turn off all other tabs and tune into the Zoom class with my full and unwavering attention.