Laurier, we need to talk

(Graphic by Steph Truong)

You know what? I’m going to go there: I would totally be okay with Laurier raising tuition prices. The best part is, I mean it.

If next year, there were bigger numbers or more radical still, an extra digit or two at the end of my invoice next term, I’d be fine with it.

Laurier, I’m willing to go through a lot here in the name of that Holy Grail-esque, symbolic piece of paper at the end of it all.

So, Laurier let’s talk. Pull up a chair and allow me to propose something to you.

First, and I can’t be alone on this, let’s figure out what was going on with the dining hall.

See, this “high-quality” education I’m getting here is starting to work against you.

Right when I saw the remains of my first year experience this September, I wanted to ask questions like, “how is that deficit going for you?” and “you know there are other people here than just first years, right?”

Don’t worry Laurier, you clearly know what you’re doing.

Eliminating the dining hall for a good chunk of Laurier students probably worked out really well for you.

Things are just getting bigger and better for Laurier like larger admission numbers and more widespread academic acclaim.

There are longer line-ups for on-campus service facilities, higher prices for on-site food, more bleary-eyed 20-somethings wandering aimlessly in search of actually affordable grub — everything’s looking up!

Now, I haven’t been around for that long. Tender months ago, I was still forming an opinion about this community I’m now a part of.

I was nervous in the beginning, understandably, but learned to love my new environment by doing what Laurier does best when things get stressful: gratuitously spending money.

My very first round of midterms last year were tough, but with Laurier’s encouragement, I felt much better after blowing all my RESP on Laurier key chains.

They sit in a bag at the back of my closet to remind me of my dedication to the school and what it stands for.

Laurier, I know you love me. Your unique (read: capitalist) brand of comfort surrounds me warmly whenever I bother showing up on campus.

So Laurier, I’m here to help. Go ahead and take what you need through my tuition. I’d feel better knowing that my money is in more capable hands than mine.

I go out of my way to try and be sensible with my funds, living on my own and all, but clearly this just won’t do.

Laurier, you’re inspiring my life, and now I know that the only way to be as successful as you’ve become is to frivolously throw my money at failing agendas — and that’s what I’m here for.

Need another television hung in a low-traffic area of campus? Go ahead!

Need to bulldoze the Terrance finally because it’s now the only affordable place to get a meal on campus besides Tim Hortons? Done!

Take what you need Laurier, ol’ buddy. Just call it “fees” and stick it right on the end.

I doubt students will even notice.

It’s not like anyone’s raising protest over your ‘habits’ to begin with, so it must be okay.

I’m with you — who needs classes or a faculty of arts when flags and walls are so much cooler?

We are done now, Laurier, so let’s grab a bite at the dining — oops, nevermind. Hope you like Timmies.

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