The Tator
Blu sees his shadow; two more weeks of class incoming
This is a satirical article and is not meant to be taken seriously. It does not reflect the opinions of The Spectator or UW-Eau Claire.
Last week, the Office of Mythical Bird Affairs held its annual spring semester Blu Ceremony.
According to the director of the department, Wendy Notreal, every year “tens of students” gather to watch Blu crawl out of their den behind Murray Hall. If Blu sees their shadow, two extra weeks of class are added to the semester.
“It’s really, really fun,” Notreal said. “There’s hot cocoa and music, and who doesn’t want to see a six-foot-tall, vaguely humanoid bird crawl out of a hole in the ground?”
Jake Fake, first-year anthropology student, brought a few friends to see the event.
“When I toured campus, my guide told me about Blu’s awful, terror-inducing beauty,” he said, “but there’s nothing quite like seeing it in person, you know?”
This year, Blu exited their den at 10:07 a.m., consumed one of Upper Campus’s famous albino squirrels and spotted their shadow before returning back underground.
Unfortunately for students, this means 10 additional class sessions will be added to the academic calendar, extending the semester into June.
“It’s definitely a bummer,” Fake said. “I have to call my mom tonight and let her know I won’t make it to my sister’s high school graduation.”
Some professors are also frustrated with this news, like geology professor Cathy Fakegeologyprofessor, who is worried about filling the additional class sessions.
“There are only so many rocks!” Fakegeologyprofessor said. “I’m thinking about bringing in a few pieces of wood and hoping the students can’t tell the difference.”
It’s Fakegeologyprofessor’s first semester, though, and according to some more-seasoned professors, this is all pretty run-of-the-mill.
Non-fiction writing professor Dana Fiction said this happens every couple of years, and Chancellor Jim Schmidt always enforces Blu’s decision.
“Two extra weeks of classes also means two extra weeks of tuition, so it really works out well for everyone,” Schmidt said.
Schmidt also explained that Blu hunted down the last chancellor who disobeyed its orders “like a pterodactyl.”
“When a mythical, man-sized bird tells you to add a few more class dates to your semester, you listen,” Schmidt said.
Fiction said they usually just fill the extra classes with Blu-approved films.
“Blu’s favorites are ‘Rio’ and ‘Happy Feet,’” Fiction said. “They really likes birds.”
According to Fiction, if professors provide a curriculum Blu approves of, they’re likely to receive a “reward” in their office at the end of the year, like one of Blu’s prey from Putnam Park or a hall director’s dog.
Last year, Fiction said Blu dropped off a freshman it had picked up from the volleyball courts outside their window. Fiction clarified that the student was rattled but fine.
“It’s all in good fun, you know?” Fiction said.
Chancellor Schmidt is less optimistic, warning that students who decide not to attend these additional class sessions may “face Blu’s wrath.”
“I’ve tried to explain to Blu during our monthly communes in their den that their antics are beginning to affect our enrollment rates,” Schmidt said. “I don’t think I’m getting through to them, though.”
According to Schmidt, during their meetings, Blu would only reply with a reminder that they had been around for millennia before any of us, and would be around for millennia after.
“So, just, like, go to the classes, okay?” Schmidt said.
Porisch can be found at [email protected].
Nick Porisch is a third-year English student, and this is his fourth semester at The Spectator. Most of the time you can find him just sitting around someplace, potentially writing but usually just sitting. On the rare occasion he’s not sitting around, he might be rock climbing or running. But most likely he’s just sitting somewhere.