I Saw Something I Hadn’t Seen Before.
On the day before Dylan registered for spring classes, my choices for courses had grown to a ten-page, color-coded document with a variety of back-up choices. Since he’s a freshman, Dylan registered near the end of the week-long registration – and many of his favorite classes were filling.
“You’re going to need four sciences,” I told him, “and two maths.”
“Why do I have to take so much science?” Dylan whined.
“Because you’re getting a Bachelor of Science degree, remember?”
“Oh, right. And why am I doing that?”
“Because you didn’t want to take any foreign language classes.”
Dylan sighed. Over the course of the week, we talked several times. Twelve hours before registration, we worked together to find a schedule that would not only help him graduate, but it would make him less anxious.
“I don’t want to take anything that starts before convo hour,” he said. (Convo hour is at 10 a.m.)
Finally, with my ten-page document scrawled and re-done several times, and a new document called “schedule choices” – and then a final document called “FINAL FINAL FINAL I HOPE GOODNIGHT” … I was ready to go to bed.
And Dylan was ready to go back and work on his paper, which he needed to complete by midnight.
It was after 10:00, but I thought, Gee, I should just make a quick list of all the classes he needs for the B.S. degree and all the classes he needs for his major, so he’ll have it for next fall’s registration.
So I hopped online and started downloading information, and highlighting which courses he’d already taken… when suddenly, with an unpleasant lurching of my stomach, I saw something I hadn’t seen before.
At the top of the course catalog, on the upper right-hand side, was a little box with a drop-down menu that said:
Undergraduate Catalog 2017-2018 [ARCHIVED CATALOG]
I almost vomited.
Apparently I had – somehow – bookmarked the archived catalog from two years ago on my computer, and had been “helping” Dylan by determining his course requirements based on a catalog that was substantially different than the current catalog.
It was 11:00, my time, when I called Dylan who – at least – had another hour to start making changes to his course schedule. Meanwhile, it was way past my bedtime.
“You only need two sciences now,” I told him. “So that’s good. And to be honest, the classes you’re going to be taking now are way better!”
Then we spent another hour throwing together choices that, hopefully, would fix the problems I had created by reading the wrong catalog.
Eventually, Dylan had a schedule he liked – with all of his classes starting at 11:00 or later – and I could go to bed. Which I did.
I literally dreamed about course registration. People were in my way, when I was trying to register. Some woman kept blocking me from the table as I was trying to get to the computer. I woke up several times during the night, only to fall asleep and have another dream about being unable to register for classes.
I’m really not in college anymore, but that didn’t stop my anxiety.
I got almost no sleep, worrying about Dylan’s classes 700 miles away. And when I woke up, the real fun started.