Critic Te Ārohi hasn’t met with Proctor Dave Scott in a while now, but he certainly hasn’t forgotten about us. With the recent snap in the weather, we were more than happy to go and pay him a visit to get out of the kind of cold that chills you to the bone.
Upon arrival, we were waved quickly through and greeted by name by one of the Proctor’s colleagues upstairs, further proving our successful infiltration. The Proctor himself expressed his approval of the last couple of editions of Proctology: “Well, you’re back for a third time. So they can’t be too bad.”
If you’re new here, Proctology is the branch of medicine concerned with the anus and rectum. And, apparently, student life.
This Month in the Clinic
So what’s been going on in the student body? The Proctor’s been trawling through his mind palace to try and find us a real zinger of a story, and he has succeeded once more.
Once upon a time, in a land a few blocks away, a young man “quite affected by alcohol” decided he would burgle a flat. But what does a burglar wear? The young man owned no striped onesies, or black beanies. After this confronting realisation, the young man undoubtedly gave up and basically eeny, meeny, miny, moe’d his wardrobe. He ended up settling on a “fairly distinctive sports jersey” with a number on the back to pull up over his head – effectively evading CCTV detection.
All went without a hitch. His face was obscured by the jersey, and huff and puff as the Proctor might, there was no evidence to connect the young man to the scene of the burglary. Through the usual enquiries, the Proctor asked to meet with the man – to which he swore black and blue that he had no idea about what the Proctor was accusing him of. “You’ve got the wrong guy,” he said with gusto.
Critic can only imagine what came next. As the Proctor was swallowing the bitter pill that he may have hit a dead end, the young man got up to leave, briefly turning his back to the Proctor. His eyes widened – he recognised that number on the back of the shirt. “He was wearing the same rugby jersey,” the Proctor said, relishing in his investigative prowess. In a display of clinical expertise, the Proctor subsequently diagnosed the young man as having the same level of sentience as a plant. “To go into the meeting and say ‘who’s that?’...” he continued, looking incredulous. “These are the stories that I’ve got!”
Proctor’s Prescription
It’s the time of year where students switch from socialising to studying. The weather’s switched up on us too – it’s dark when you get to the library, and dark when you leave. “We’re a big place with lots of weird and wonderful things going on,” the Proctor says sternly. “Often it ends up with us to try and help fix it.”
With all of this going on, the Proctor gets it (“I’ve done a few papers in my time”). He understands the pressure our tauira are under, some for the first time. The Proctor and Critic recommend breaking up your study – go for a walk, connect with nature, and sit in the sun if it decides to make an appearance. Eat, hydrate and sleep. Most importantly – don’t be an island. Everyone’s under stress, and supporting each other by sharing what’s going on can make all the difference. Give your exams due time, and don’t leave things until the last minute.
It’s okay to feel worried, scared or overwhelmed. You’re not letting yourself or others down if you change your mind about your studies, take a break, say no, ask for help or put yourself first. Careers can help you find the pathway that will work for you. “Don’t give up,” the Proctor says. “It’s a huge step to come from high school to university.”
It certainly is – and we’re happy that you’re here.
