Accidental Observations
I unpacked my book bag on the fifth floor of the library at one of the sections at the divided tables. I pulled out my laptop and booted it up, flipped through my agenda to this week’s tasks, and pulled out my pencil case. I spent a few moments staring at the sign posted on the wall “absolutely quiet floor,” then looked down at my set up with pride.
The fifth floor of the library was the spot on campus I always sought out when it was time to be productive. Everyone on this floor is either laser focused on their work or snoozing in the big, comfy chairs by the window.
I opened up a new Word doc. and started in on my journalism assignment. I was working through transcribing a recent interview until I heard a faint bzzt bzzt coming from my phone in my bag. I looked down in temptation, but reminded myself to stay productive. Two minutes later, a reminder: bzzt bzzt.
I gave in and dug through my bag for my phone. I was about to lock it and stick it back in my bag when the white 4 in a red bubble by my “Social” widget caught my eye. Two Facebook notifications, a Twitter notification, and a Snapchat. “I’ll check them really quick. It’ll be like a baby break and then I’ll go right back to my work.”
That was a lie, and the beginning of the next 10, maybe 15 minutes I wasted. However long it was, it was long enough that by the time I looked up, my laptop screen was black and the computer was sleeping. I stared in the laptop screen slightly confused by how much time had passed, then perplexed by the actions I inadvertently witnessed in the reflection of the computer screen.
When I first picked my seat in the library, there was this guy sitting at the single round table behind me, switching feverishly from looking up at his computer screen to looking down at his work. His was scribbling words on his paper at lightning speed. He was moving this fast when I sat down, and when I caught his reflection in my screen. After watching mesmerized for a few moments, he sat the pencil down, hung his arms limp, and stared up at the ceiling, as if praying to God for mercy. Then, he laid his head down for several minutes and didn’t move.
After witnessing his burnout, I surveyed the area around me. The girl sitting next to me, who, earlier, was sporting such a serious thinking face it looked painful, was scrolling casually through her phone, blissfully unaware of the abandoned homework on her desk.
These two students captured two elements of procrastination I hadn’t acknowledged until now. First, not all delay is procrastination. In the case of the ferocious writer resting his head, he was taking a break from his work, or was otherwise delaying its completion, but was in no way procrastinating. Second, procrastination isn’t inherently bad. In the case of the girl next to me scrolling through Facebook, or Instagram, or whatever it may have been, she was clearly procrastinating — participating in unearned leisure activities when there was work she could have been doing. Nevertheless, it is a quick browsing session — five to ten minutes — short enough to constitute a break, then, while, yes that is procrastinating, it isn’t necessarily bad.
However, in this realization I found myself at new question? At what point does a “break” become procrastination?
Finally, my third realization is that procrastination is invasive. It can worm its way in to even the most focused students. Perhaps, even, procrastination may find a home in burnt out students.
