As I walked to class yesterday, I couldn’t help but notice the gorgeous weather. It was the kind of perfect, warm, sunny day that seems to put almost anyone in a good mood.

The wind blew ever so gently as to kick up just enough of a breeze to brush past and bring with it the scent of spring and renewed life.

Passing through the doors of Coleman Hall, I couldn’t help but notice the temperature rise just a few degrees, but I would not be deterred. Even the prospect of three hours of classes ahead of me could not wipe the smile from my face or bounce from my step.

There is just something about that new spring scent that always gets me going.

Little did I know, though, that the slight increase in temperature when I entered the building was merely a precursor for what would ensue and that delightful smell would soon melt away and be replaced by something far more sinister.

Walking into my classroom, the temperature immediately shot up by at least 10 degrees. The acrid stink of human sweat was everywhere. Even at 11 a.m. it was already filling the room, and half the class hadn’t even shown up yet. I hadn’t even sat down at my desk by the time I started sweating bullets.

As my professor double-checked to make sure all the windows were, indeed, open, one person suggested we move class outside. Another asserted that no; in fact, it was hotter outside than in.

“Dear Lord,” I thought to myself. “This poor fool is already being affected by the heat. He has already developed some twisted Stockholm Syndrome, in which staying inside this room and melting is better than being outside with that perfect breeze!”

During my second class, my professor informed us that after speaking with the ever-present powers that be, the air conditioning in the building would not be turned on for quite some time.

Dread overcame me. When any state government-run entity tells you something will be done quickly, it takes an eternity. How long could “quite some time” actually be? I mean, this is only the beginning of April, and temperatures are in the “absolutely perfect” range. What will happen in a couple weeks when the mercury starts to rise?

I understand the university is facing hard times and conserving energy is a logical and easy way to save a few dollar bills here and there. I even appreciate the sentiment.

But, let’s face it, one cannot focus and learn when they are more concerned with the ever-growing wet spot on their lower back.

We are students, not soldiers of war. I simply can’t take this sweat-box-style torment!

In all seriousness, I am aware of more than a few classes that were released early yesterday due to the heat in Coleman Hall, and, as previously stated, this is still early April. Temperatures outside are quite low and yet the unreasonable amount of warmth generated by 30 bodies crammed into a room with little more than a series of glorified cracks somehow still called “windows” is already climbing to intolerable heights.

Please, administration, we know you must save money everywhere possible. But we simply can’t concentrate while melting away. Please turn on the air conditioning in Coleman Hall. After all, nobody likes the smell of B.O. and it certainly isn’t conducive to learning.

David Thill is a senior journalism major and can be reached at DENopinions@gmail.com or 581-7942.