When I first decided I was going to write a column about registration, I was ready to be as optimistic as possible. Last semester, my initial schedule for this semester was completely rearranged due to spotty reception during registration.
After about 10 minutes of deliberation during registration, however, I not only ended up eventually having all of the courses I originally wanted to take, but also managed to form an 18-credit schedule sans any class on Fridays, a feat that I would not have even dreamed of if I hadn’t missed out on some of my initial course options. With the hope of a similar occurrence in mind, I went to bed the night before registration for next semester with visions of perfect schedules dancing in my head.
It was a hazy morning. All I remember was being told to shut up from the next room over because of my raw, uninhibited anger.
When I regained my composure, I looked at my computer screen to see a schedule composed of two courses. The time was 7:30. My roommate had already fallen back to sleep, having immediately secured his classes, including the elusive COLL 200 Stage Lighting that I had wanted so dearly prior to telling him about it.
By 7:50 a.m., I had drowsily written several pleading emails and gone back to sleep, awaiting my wake-up a little more than an hour later. I looked over at my happy, sleeping roomie one last time and felt a potent tinge of loathing at his success.
I went into my class still riding the frustration I had felt earlier and preparing to greet a group of chipper students who had managed to get their perfect schedules. Once there, however, I was immediately reminded that everyone goes through the same hell. Only one person had actually secured their perfect schedule. In fact, multiple people actually had it worse than me, having only gotten into one class. My early frustration had certainly been warranted, but it was not an isolated experience. Later pn, walking back to my dorm after my final class of the day, a friend of mine and I both received emails alerting us that we had gotten overrides for that stage lighting course. Overjoyed, we high-fived each other, with our mutual contempt for my roommate shifting to excitement at the prospect of the three of us having a class together.
During registration, it is extremely easy to lose sight of the fact that some way, somehow, full-time students who begin their time at the College of William and Mary have a 90.8 percent chance of graduating in four years.
The requirements will regardless of any original failures during registration, and anger toward the success of others should not dampen your day. Not only will those others eventually feel some scheduling pain as well, but their success does not come from them, but from the system they somehow got lucky enough to succeed in.
When it rains, it may appear to pour. But it eventually pours on everyone, and at the end of the day, the weather clears up for everyone.
Email Anthony Madalone at asmadalone@email.wm.edu.
