By unknown
Submitted by mattessa

Now that winter is upon us, it seems to me that list of reasons for lecture absenteeism is a mile long.
Students always have an excuse to stay home. What happens, however, when students begin missing their
classes and excusing themselves on the basis of nostalgia?

It recently came to my attention that my roommates have an absentee conundrum. It seems as though their
timetables conflict with the television broadcasting schedule. Their viewing habits have even prompted them to form a self-help contract whereby they encourage each other to watch "just the one episode". So I asked myself, "Can television shows possibly be this addictive?"

I woke up one rainy morning and knew in my heart of hearts that there was no need to cross the park. Instead, I would see what all this TV fuss was about. When noon rolled around I could hear oddly familiar voices blaring from our common room. The cheesy Bronx accent lured me to the sofa. I stared in disbelief at Angela's side pony, her massive shoulder pads and her oh-so obvious lust for Tony Micelli. Mona, the randy redhead, was doling out worthless advice to Sam, clad in her stylish legwarmers, and I was in nostalgic bliss. With this, I slipped silently back to the eighties and forgot that Sidney Smith ever existed.

As the second episode began, I started to feel slightly guilty about the whole class thing. There had to be some inherent educational value here: and then there it was. The mind-boggling question was asked: "Who is the boss?" Two back to back episodes allowed us to philosophize on this extremely intellectual query. Is Angela the boss? Is Tony the servant? Where does Jonathan fit in? But by 1 o'clock philosophy gave way to another area of study: geography. Does the road to Avonlea actually have a name? I mean, it leads to Sarah Stanley and Aunt Hettie, but what is "the road" called?

I couldn't believe it! Lucy Maude was making me miss my third hour of class. It is a difficult thing to refuse the pastoral niceties of rural Prince Edward Island. It's like Felicity King telling you that the first hit's free and you know where to find her when you want some more. Channel six, one o'clock and my education passes me by. My inner child, on the other hand, screams with delight and begs my adult self to stay up just a little while longer.