By Mariana Schuetze
Procrastination is a bad habit that plagues many students at Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU). As Feb. 29 rolled around, this special bonus day on everyone’s schedule was a cause for celebration, but not for reasons most might expect.
Instead of using these additional 24 hours to get ahead of some work, many TMU students just stuck to doing what they do best: nothing.
“You know that giddy feeling when a professor extends an assignment deadline and you immediately know you have more time to put it off? A leap year is kind of like that,” said second-year professional music student Denver Cliff.
Cliff admitted that he appreciates the leap year for what it is but views the extra day as an opportunity to “recharge.”
“An extra 24 hours of sleep? Hell yeah, sign me up!” said Cliff. “Much like my icon Dakota Johnson, a 14-hour sleep is a daily occurrence for me, so getting that extra day feels like a gift.”
“I woke up just in time to order a $40 Wendy’s breakfast”
A leap year is quite rare, adding an extra day to the February calendar only once every four years, but why does it exist? Many TMU students don’t know…or care.
“To be honest, I didn’t even know there was a leap year this year,” said fourth-year creative industries student Sara Garfield. “In terms of what I did, I woke up at 10:15 [a.m.] and missed my morning lecture, but I woke up just in time to order a $40 Wendy’s breakfast.”
It’s precisely the mindset of “you weren’t going to use it anyway” that caused students to procrastinate instead of getting their shit done, explained Laura Leapalot, a psychology professor at the University of Lupercalia.
“You’d expect that university students who are so notoriously overworked in the first place would use the extra day to maximize their slay,” said Leapalot. “Instead, they leap at the opportunity to ignore doing what the girlies need them to do.”
A study conducted by Leapalot on the rapid decline of girlboss activity during leap days has shown that over 69 per cent of post-pandemic university students failed to take proper advantage of the extra day.
Ninth-year professional communication student and Yonge Street Warehouse server Harlem Sheik revealed that he probably could have benefited from the leap day if he cared to count calendar days.
“I usually have to pay rent on the first of every month, so I guess the leap year gave me a chance to make some tips before the cutoff,” he said. “I made a few bills on the 29th but ended up spending it all on two sliders at Dave’s Hot Chicken.”
“An extra 24 hours of sleep? Hell yeah, sign me up!”
Despite the neglect this day seems to get, seeing Feb. 29 as a divine gift from the universe is a feeling shared by many students, including Alka Like, a fourth-year chemical engineering student at TMU.
“Honestly, my best friend was, like, born on the 29th,” she said. “So, like, whenever that day comes around, like, every few years or so, it’s like, a really big deal. He’s literally, like, four years old, so I have to throw him, like, a huge birthday party!”
After TMU students enjoyed some much-needed rest and further neglected their responsibilities, the sun has set on the 29th and the world must now wait patiently for the next leap year to come around in 2028.
A new Instagram page with the username @WeLuvtheLeapYear was created by a group of new media students to count down the days until Feb. 29, 2028. It has since been taken down because students have seemingly already forgotten about it.
“I spent all day in bed, it was incredible,” said Cliff. “In another four years, I’ll do it all again!”
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