In the Beginning There was School

The pivotal points in history all come down to a choice. To be or not to be? Jerry Brown or Meg Whitman? Paper or plastic? My current dilemma at Sac State seems equally important; how should I spend my 16-units?

With the 16-unit limit for freshman, sophomores and juniors, the picking and planning of classes just increases in difficulty. How many three-unit classes and how many one-unit classes does it take to make 16?

The unit cap is only helpful to those last to register, or the slackers that want to be forced to take the least amount of units possible. But it kills the overachiever. Suddenly, my dream of taking 21 units and graduating a semester early bites the dust.

Those go-getter genes in me make me believe I can manipulate the situation to my best advantage. Seven semesters later, I still haven’t figured out that everything cannot succumb to my plan for the world. My first few semesters at college were spent trying to figure out the system. Now, my last semesters will be spent trying to manipulate the system.

In three years, there has never been a semester where my class schedule went according to my first plan, or my second plan, or even my third plan. It seems like it should be such a natural progression, like growing up or driving to work or making a baby. Instead, I spend most of my first week dating around, trying to find the class that works perfect for me and realizing that I am not omitted from the 16 unit limit, or from the pre-requisites, or any of the wait lists.

This week, I changed almost all my classes the night before they started. This week I sent out more than 20 e-mails to different professors. This week a teacher lectured me for being sick from “self-caused stress.”

I had high hopes when I began the week rested. I was ready to jump into the world of the day planner. Then the reality of the syllabi, the exam schedule and the lack of sleep set in.

On Monday, I was up early: changing classes, meeting my first deadline and writing e-mails. Tuesday comes next: conducting my first interview and noticing signs of sickness. Tuesday afternoon finds me auditioning for a vocal jazz ensemble on a whim. Wednesday morning I am on interview number two. Wednesday night comes and I am making an excel spreadsheet to plan out all my classes. Thursday morning, change classes. On Thursday afternoon the lab computer breaks. Suddenly, I realize there is nothing in the house to eat for dessert.

Science has never failed the world with its accurate conclusions; what goes up must come down, what can go wrong will go wrong and stress causes illness.

Yet, somehow it all works out in the end. This excel spreadsheet I have now is not on track with my original plan, but it is 16 units worth of classes that I need to graduate. The trick to being a good student is being organized and understanding that you cannot always manipulate the system.

The other trick to school is accepting the fact that you are permanently exhausted for the next four months. Pulling 12 hour days at school by being an overachiever, standing in line at the registrar, showing up to professors’ offices, doing homework early, auditioning for music classes and learning how to write a column is all a part of this college experience our parents reminisced about.

Apparently, our parents only remembered the after-finals-week parties. College is a lot of work.

For me, Thursday night is the beginning of freedom; the classroom section of the week is over. Once more it all comes down to a choice. Facebook or Twitter? Sushi or Pizza? Movie or TV?