Walking briskly to my French class to escape the Michigan chill, I savor the blinding morning sun and let the autumn breeze tangle my hair as I weave through the bottlenecks of people in Angell Hall to arrive at my first class just a little bit early. My classmates line the narrow Tisch hallway, most of them scrolling mindlessly on their phones, some chatting about today’s homework — what they did not understand or failed to complete, fighting sleeplessness under a dim, dorm-room light. When 9 a.m.