Omicron, FOMO, and Cognitive Dissonance: Campus Life During the Pandemic
Pondering the confusion of navigating college life now that things are back to normal-ish
By: Nina Afremov
There was a joke I used to hear in 2020, back when the COVID pandemic still felt like a shock to the system that was our everyday lives. My friends and I would repeat the refrain, “Back when our grandparents were our age, they’d go to war to be heroes. Now we just stay home.”
However, this feels like an impossible task for some; for many restless college students, staying in feels like a loss. After all, Americans seem to view college as a time when young people embark on profound self-discovery through alcohol and socializing. Look at movies like “American Pie 2” and “Pitch Perfect.” They are quintessential examples of the college lifestyle, especially the latter, since it’s set against the backdrop of a college activity. I remember my former roommate’s devastation when her a cappella group shut down for good. However, some students have been partying since March 2020, before the distribution of the vaccines. This partying has stirred controversy: in September 2020, Kare 11 covered a story about freshmen at the University of Minnesota breaking protocol by partying at Kollege Klub.
But the reality is, we have made a lot of progress against COVID. According to the University of Minnesota, more than 90% of our community is vaccinated. Reminders about the mask mandate and advertisements for getting boosted are posted on the door of every building on campus. But is that enough, especially considering the Omicron variant?
A week before the start of the spring semester, there were 219 student cases of COVID. Although cases went down to 82 the next week, it was still a surge compared to December.
The city responded to this surge by mandating that only fully vaccinated people or those with negative tests could dine at restaurants in Minneapolis or Saint Paul (a mandate that has recently been lifted). Yet despite the mandates and the feeling of COVID closing in, it seems like people, not only students, will continue to grasp for pre-COVID normalcy.
Mitch, a senior at the University, told me what this surge looked like for him. “A lot of people got sick with Omicron. Fortunately I avoided it, but all of my friends had a scare and five to seven tested positive.” He also told me what he remembers about campus before the pandemic. “Things were busier, livelier. Campus was all over the place and professors were more readily available.” In other words, there is much to miss about life before the pandemic, and it is no wonder that people want a sense of normalcy, despite the apparent risk.
This state of living in weariness, but having a desire for normalcy, is a case of cognitive dissonance. According to researchers at Princeton University, cognitive dissonance describes the state when people’s attitudes contradict their actions. This is an unpleasant state because it breeds confusion. It was more clear to take a stance against COVID-related cognitive dissonance a year ago, before the vaccines were widespread. For example, it was easier to see the cognitive dissonance of those who said they would get a vaccine to protect others, but would go out to clubs on the weekends. This is an example of stating one thing (wanting to protect public health) but doing another (partaking in behavior that puts public health at risk). Yet as we come close to two years in a state of limbo, and as people continue to get vaccinated and boosted, the lines become blurred.
Speaking with Lara, a junior at the University, brought up some of this confusion for me. When asked about her social life, she told me about a ski trip. “My friends and I like to do a yearly ski trip, and I feel secure with those friends because they’re health care workers. They’re vaccinated, boosted, and need to be more careful.” But a friend of mine, whose mom works in the healthcare field, rarely goes to his parents’ house, because his mom is at risk of exposure to the virus and spends most of her days with patients who are immunocompromised. So, whose logic is right (or at least less wrong)?
No matter the answer, some students are still going to go out. If they do, they should keep several things in mind. Dee Dee, a master’s student in public health at the University, gave me her opinion on the matter. “At the moment, I think everyone needs to take risks in a calculated way. It’s clear nobody’s going to lock down again, so students should consider their personal risk of transmission to vulnerable groups.” In other words, if you're going to see your elderly grandparents every Saturday, maybe don’t go to Blarney’s for karaoke on Thirsty Thursday. If you do decide to go out, get tested a few days after, whether you’re seeing Nana or not. “At this point, doing anything social means accepting the responsibility to minimize the risk for yourself and others around you.”
Then there are those who don’t party at all and don’t need to worry about it. Maybe the lockdowns of the past two years have turned them into hermits and the risk of Omicron is just another excuse to watch Netflix every night. And maybe there are those who make the choice not to go out because they don’t consider it time well spent.
I asked Ryan, a junior at the University, what he thought. “A lot of the people that I know who are going out to parties and bars a lot just don’t exactly have it together.” Shots already fired, I asked him to elaborate. “Well, a lot of the time it seems like it’s sort of a get away. They’re facing problems and don’t want to talk about it and instead go out to bars and hang out.” Ryan’s answer seemed to bring the college party premise into question. But no matter what we value during our college experience, Omicron (or any new variant) won’t compel people to stop going out, not when it seems like COVID will always be a part of our reality.