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And then God said, “Let there be classes.”

September 21, 2010

“Going to college” means something different for everyone — and it’s easy to forget it’s true meaning the longer you attend. I know that sounds weird, but, in my experience, it’s been so completely true.

When you get to college as a freshman, all you’ve ever heard about your whole life is, “I tell ya, kiddo, I haven’t had that much fun since college!” or, “Listen, champ, college is the best time of your life, enjoy it!”

So, you get to campus and you’re ready. You’re ready for the best year of your life. You’re ready for the parites. You’re ready for the people. Hell, you’re even ready for copious amounts of alcohol. You’re ready to break the law.

But suddenly you realize: you’re at school. Technically, you’re here to learn. You have to take … classes. You will be taught. You will do homework. You will even (gulp) study. Nobody ever said anything about that.

I had my first classes today, and last night it was so strange to think I would have to attend. I got to school a week early to help freshman become acclimated to campus (because I am, in fact, somewhat of a saint) — and because I was a week early, I had a week to do nothing but chill, hang out, chat and chill (did I say that one already?). After a week of that, I came to just consider that as the norm — it was just my way of life.

Then Northwestern came along and said, “Hey, check it out, shit’s gonna get real,” and it made me uneasy for a bit.

Last night I lay in bed thinking about the start of classes. I was in a state of confusion — and a bit of denial. It just seems wrong, I thought, that I should have all these obligations I don’t want to fulfill when there are so many wonderful things I’d rather be doing. College is such a beautiful place with so many opportunities to seize; I don’t want to be spend time in a Stats class (information I don’t ever want to have to use in later life), when I could easily be having a great conversation with someone who could turn out to be a life long friend. If ever there is a time in my life where I have to use stats on a daily basis, I will consider my life a failure and just start over. I’ll just pull an Eat, Pray, Love, if you catch my drift.

Then classes started. I have a 9:30 a.m. class. That should never happen. Nothing in the world should ever start before 11 a.m. In a nation that claims it doesn’t torture, I raise a skeptical brow when I hear the words “9 a.m. classes.” Just sayin’. I woke up, angry, got dressed and went to class. I sat, sat, sat, then went to the next one, sat through it, then got lunch.

And then I discovered something — I was in a great mood. I immediately stopped for a period of reflection.

It didn’t make sense — I woke up early and spent 3 hours sitting in classes when I could easily have been having what most people consider, “fun,” and I was still in a good mood.

And then I realized (please excuse me if I sound disgustingly cheesy): classes are fulfilling.

Check it out — if I hadn’t had a 9:30 a.m. class, I would have probably slept in until 12, gotten up, mozied around, wasted time, felt like a loser, and then started my day. But because of the classes and learning opportunities college has given me, I was active and productive right from the get go, and by 12, I had greeted the day with a fresh smile and an attitude that said, “Yo world, here I am. Let’s party.”

So, hear me out. Parties are fun. Friends are awesome. Chillage is not overrated. But classes — classes are dope. Seriously. I’ve gone to class. I know.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. September 22, 2010 3:52 pm


  2. September 22, 2010 6:28 pm

    Ah yes, classes! What I wouldn’t give to be back in Lacy Baldwin Smith’s history class on Elizabethan England. Or Garrison’s class on Greek comedy. Or “The Intellectual History of Europe”! Great stuff. Those four years flew by in a most fulfilling way.

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