Recently, a Kenyon calendar came in the mail. Aptly, my father has named it “places your kid isn’t.” “Here we are, Isla,” he says, “looking at all of these beautiful snowy pictures of a school you have barely even been to,” and I can’t help but agree. Some would take this opportunity to say, “Isla, do not continue a trend in your stupid little irrelevant blog articles of being an insolent brat and complaining that you’re not on campus. No one cares.” To that I would also agree. Good jab, some, you’re on the right track. In these unprecedented times, that some would refer to as “hell,” (some would be wrong, here), I consider all the fragments of hell that are also, coincidentally, places your kid isn’t, or more matter of factly, isn’t yet.