I’m dying to take “Cheesemaking on the Farm” for Winter Study, but I’ve heard registration is very competitive. As a cheese-making farm animal yourself, any tips to impress the professor?

Many an aspiring cheesemaker have come to me with this very question. The trick is to treat this like being on Hinge. One: Write a haiku about your love of cheesemaking. Or several. Leave them under the professor’s front door to show full commitment. Two: Guilt-trip. Jump-scare the professor in 9 a.m. office hours with your life’s woes, like how getting cut from your chess club in the third grade led to cheese-making being your only hope of self-redemption. 

I’m rather clumsy, and I have an irrational fear of falling and dropping my food tray in the dining hall. What should I do?

I have bad news: Your fear is far from irrational. But remember, embarrassment is a choice (or, at least, that’s what my ex-therapist told me back when she was willing to see me). Here’s what you can do: When you fall (and you surely will), roll onto your side, strike a pose with your hand behind your head, give a little wink, and say “Help! I’ve dropped my food … and I’m the snack.” Subtlety, mon amour, subtlety.

I tried to walk onto the crew team and got cut. I thought they took everyone. I’m really devastated. What shall I do?

I’m sorry to hear that, dear. When I was in Mooversity, I got rejected from Delta Cow Cowppa, so be grateful we don’t have Greek life here. There are two paths you might take. Option one: Rig their ergs so they move too effortlessly, drill tiny holes in their oars as an anti-heroic scheme of sabotage, and wear Amherst sweaters to the rowing matches. Option two: Join rugby — they’ll take anyone!

Everyone here is from New York City. I’m from a small town in the middle of Nebraska, and I think they all look down on me. They also somehow have 30 mutual friends from the moment they arrived. It’s driving me crazy.

Does it feel like those New Yorkers think they’re better than you? It’s because they do — ever heard of the New York asshole trope? Don’t hold it against them, though; it’s just their nature. They’ll waltz around with their Soho tote bags and complain about Williamstown’s lack of subways. But, hey, think about this — most of them will be paying ridiculous rent for a mildewy shoebox if they go back to the city after they graduate!

I have appendicitis, and might have to get a stomach X-ray. I’m self-conscious that my scans will show a bunch of Snar chicken tenders because that’s all I’ve been eating for the past few weeks.

Be for real. We all know that when you say “past few weeks,” you really mean nearly every night for the past 88 days. It’s okay. You’re not the first. Maybe say you’ve been trying to support the U.S. poultry economy. As a recovering alfalfa addict, I feel you.