Three cheers for snow days! Hip, hip hooray! Calling off classes due to the weather is like handing each student a license to be lazy. Studying screeches to an abrupt halt; books are tossed over shoulders and under beds. Why bother? Suddenly, life is fun again.

To several students, no school means direct advancement to the nearest television set — do not pass go, do not collect $200. I think you can guess the passion that drives them to the tube: soap operas. Our required reading for philosophy, biology and English 105 is ignored as we immerse ourselves in the trials and tribulations of soap opera life.

Although you may not notice at first glance, the very English literature you’ve been giving the cold shoulder has some striking similarities to the soap operas you’re indulging in. Yes, it’s true! To the delight of some and disdain of others, Shakespeare and soaps share several characteristics.

Most obvious is their use of the soliloquy. Shakespeare’s characters are left alone in an empty room or, if they are in the presence of others, quietly mutter a monologue for the audience’s ears only. None of the other characters can hear him or her commenting on how rotten the state of Denmark is and that sort of thing.

Soap operas play the same game. Actors and actresses often turn towards a window, wring hands, clench fists or perform some other type of tense, nervous habit. All the while, he or she is talking aloud — usually figuring out the missing piece to the puzzle of recent events, jumping to an outrageous conclusion or restating the happenings of the last episode. The restatement occurs frequently after a weekend break, just in case viewers missed a key element in the current conflict at hand.

While the soliloquy is a fabulous way to keep your audience up on the latest buzz, it seems awfully unrealistic. I’m sure we can all plead guilty to the charge of talking to ourselves now and then. However, I have a difficult time believing someone would hold an entire conversation with himself out loud without the presence of recreational drugs. No one does that! If your friends saw you doing that, they’d think you went biserk. Both Shakespeare and soaps fall victim to the soliloquy on a regular basis.

The emotions involved are also comparable. Betrayal constantly plagues the plot and is enhanced by ironic circumstances. No action can take place unless someone is knifed in the back (sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively) by their best friend, trusted ally, rambunctious mistress or long-lost husband who we all thought was dead until he reappeared in Tuesday’s episode last week.

Whether you’re watching “Young and the Restless” or “Macbeth,” the storyline moves slowly. Soap operas have the annoying habit of breaking down the climactic action with dramatic pauses and commercial breaks. Meanwhile, it takes forever to get through a page of “Macbeth” or any other work of William because he writes with such crazy language, you have to refer to the little sidebar on the bottom of the page explaining what he’s really saying. Getting through one scene practically takes a fortnight!

The characters themselves have a few like attributes. Let’s examine a few character examples. Romeo and Juliet, the infamous star-crossed lovers, were both members of prominent families. They are wealthy, beautiful (we can assume popular) and basically carefree — except for that huge inter-family war situation. Soap operas are no different. Their bodies are thin, and their wallets are fat. Everyone seems to have fabulous jobs, but never seem to worry their pretty little heads about getting any work done.

Last but not least is the rampant lust. Romeo and Juliet were steaming up the windows despite the fact that they were only in their tender teenage years. Along the same lines, in soaps the only time somebody is in bed alone is when they enter eternal rest.

If you are a student who took part in soap-watching and are now wishing you would have done your reading for class, try and salvage your grade. Try saying a soliloquy to yourself (within earshot of your professor, of course) about how hard you worked on your studies over the snow day. Hopefully, he or she will be so impressed they will forget to ask you about the reading material. (Either that or they’ll wonder when you started talking to yourself.)

Joanne Roepke is a senior in journalism and mass communication from Aurora.