This could just be my personal opinion, but the last month of school has always seemed to move at the speed of a turtle doing a backstroke in a pool of molasses. It doesn’t matter what level of school it is—college, high school, elementary, middle school, even preschool—those last 30 days last for an eternity.
I’ve found that this past April has been a mix of fast and slow, as if I keep accidentally walking in and out of a timewarp. As is custom for the end of the semester, the professors have been slamming us with end-of-year projects. When I sit down to do these projects, I’m stuck sitting at the table for about a thousand years. When I see how much time I have left to finish these projects, I start screaming “too fast! Too fast!” and I attempt to unbuckle myself so that I can leap off the ride that is Spring Semester 2017. Unfortunately, the seatbelt is locked so there’s nothing I can do but cry and hang on with white-knuckled fists until it’s all over.
Between all of this, there’s another event I get to participate in: registration for Fall semester. It shouldn’t seem like a big deal, especially since everything is electronic now and we don’t have to deal with those large catalogues from the days of our parents. I literally just have to log in, click a few buttons, and I’m good to go, right?
Registration has been one of the most intense things to happen to me this month, but whether that’s because it’s such a harrowing experience or because I never leave the house I’m not sure.
Point is, registration can be tough. But thankfully I’ve started to reach a point where I know what I’m doing. Well, kinda.
I like to be prepared, so the first thing I do is search up the potential classes I need to take for the next semester and make sure that they don’t conflict with each other. I’m a dork who loves to put together charts and lists and schedules, so I usually make a cute little color-coded table with what my classes will be for each day (if anyone asks, it’s not my anxiety kicking in and causing me to obsess, it’s simply me adulting). I also write down the individual numbers for each class so that I don’t have to go searching through a thousand webpages when it’s time to register.
You’d think with me over-preparing, registration would be a piece of cake. That’s what I thought last semester, and that’s how I ended up missing one of the classes I needed to take. I showed up to registration thirty minutes late, and I paid the price for it.
The thing is, classes get snatched up faster than a hundred-dollar bill in a Las Vegas casino (disclaimer: this comparison is not from personal experience). There is a limited amount of students in each class, and .00034 seconds can be the difference between getting the last spot in Mythology, or having to take Super Hard Math 4000. As an English major, my classes are often limited to 20 people, which means I have to fight tooth and nail for those final spots.
As I’ve advanced through college, I’ve found that being an upperclassmen does not necessarily mean you have an easier time getting into classes. Sure, I get to register two days earlier than the years below me, but that also means that most of my class sizes have been reduced to 15 students per class.
That’s how I ended up at my kitchen table at 7:59 in the morning, with a thousand tabs opened up on my laptop, with one of my class’ registration numbers already copied and ready to paste. Registration opened at eight, and there were only two seats left in a class I had to take this next semester or else I’d probably be forced an 18-credit semester later down the road if I didn’t get in.
The minute the clock flashed eight, I channeled my inner Flash, Sonic the Hedgehog, Quicksilver, and the Millennium Falcon. My fingers were no longer flesh and bone, but bolts of lightning. Click click BOOM! I was in.
I think I sprained something. My pinky has never felt quite the same since that day, but I did make it into the class, so it was worth it.
It took a good hour for me to come off of that adrenaline high, but man I felt good. I was a champion, my friends! Never before have I felt so alive!
And never before has Calli realized she needs to get out more. There will come a day when the sun will touch my skin and my lungs will know what fresh air feels like, but until the semester ends I’m afraid that won’t be happening anytime soon.
I’ve made it through registration, but now I must face the final boss looming in front of me: Finals Week. Here’s to hoping that I make it out alive (although at this point, I’d be happy to end this semester with at least 60% of my limbs attached).