Choosing classes at this school is about as frustrating as its football team. Most of us began this infinitely irritating process sometime last semester when we were pleasantly notified by the university in some impersonal manner that we could schedule for the following term.

So we began the search through the infamous schedule of courses with smiles on our hopeful faces and dreams of two-day weeks full of late-morning integrative arts classes and afternoon yoga. We soon found that our optimism had slowly melted into the gloomy reality of a scheduling nightmare. There would be no perfect schedule. Instead, we were confronted with 8 a.m. pre-requisites and three-hour labs, conflicting times and improbable distances, dreaded professors and untimely seminars. To really finish us off and squeeze all the joy from us happy young scholars, we realized that the courses that we were anticipating with some enthusiasm were all full.

Needless to say, with a little finesse and some tedious manipulation, most of us were able to create a schedule that, while not ideal, was somewhat acceptable. And thus we entered this cold spring semester satisfied, even motivated to begin our studies. We walked to class on the first day with some spring in our step, for everything was going well, and life was good.

Of course, that would be too easy and far too convenient. Instead, our high spirits dwindled from the realization that our schedule of classes was not nearly what we expected it to be. Introduction to Geology, our ingenious attempt to fulfill the science requirement without learning any science, turned out to be a rigorous class filled with ambitious pre-meds and taught by a beaker twirling rock-crusher with a propensity for essay exams. Our art class, Intro to Drawing, was not a course in ruler use and comic books, but rather a class teeming with art majors wielding ten-dollar pencils and platinum paint brushes etched with the owners' initials. Our Fitness Walking class turned out to be an aerobic nightmare led by an energy-crazed pseudo-professor with the walking speed of a frightened kangaroo. It is enough to make the most stable individual teeter on the brink of insanity.

But, we are strong, capable young adults, and we are confident that even this desperately dismal situation can be remedied. So we dash to a computer lab with hope still lingering in our hearts and we once again bring up the schedule of courses. And what do we find? Full – Full – Full! This is when we snap. We dissolve the last ounce of sanity and head straight for crazy. We stare at the computer screen, mouth slightly open with one corner curled into a funny little smirk, and with eyes wide and vacant, we incoherently mumble, "Open up, open up, open up course."

This gibberish could continue for hours, even days, until finally, without warning, the little red Full changes to a fraction, indicating that some poor soul had dropped the course and made room for us. So we drop our old pathetic schedule and engage in the nauseating process of creating a new pathetic schedule. We pout, and growl, and curse until finally the moment comes, that inevitable moment at the end of the last day of the drop/add deadline when we can no longer add a new course. And we sit back and stare at the wrinkled piece of computer paper that we printed off of Elion. Despite the blurry haze in our queasy brains, we squint our eyes, tilt our heads, and smile. This schedule doesn't look that bad after all!