Story Sharing

Although I've shared this story with a couple of you, I thought I would post it up here in hopes that you guys would chime in with similar stories. I think I would feel better if I knew some of you shared in my misery. Sit back and relax as I regale you with a harrowing tale of frustration, dumb luck and perseverance:

One of the requirements for transfer under my major is two semesters of General Chemistry. Unfortunately, I did not meet the prerequisite  for Gen Chem because it had been so long since I graduated High School. I would need to take basic chemistry before being allowed to take Gen Chem. Well, back in 1998 I did take a basic chemistry course at Fullerton College, and passed! Again, unfortunately it was the wrong course. I took a basic chemistry class intended for life-science majors. My bad.

So there I was, among the general pool of students vying for a seat in a class that most students hoping to transfer need to take. The difficulty in registering for these courses is compounded by a few factors: chem labs only hold 25-30 students, Chem 107 is a five unit course (you can only have so many long courses in a day), and it is expensive to teach this class (and we are all aware of CA's budget woes). This summer was to be the third attempt I would make to register for this class, the two prior did not even result in a spot on the waiting list. On my appointed registration day, I anxiously awaited my turn to attempt to add this class. Saving you all from the details of that little meltdown, I was met with the same results as always: Blood (figurative), sweat (literal), tears (plead the fifth) and NO spot on the waiting list.

Before you judge me for my Telemundo-like reaction to not getting a spot on the waiting list, I should explain yet another facet to this tale. Gen Chem (the first semester) has traditionally been a fall-only class. If I didn't get in this summer at the latest, I wouldn't have my prerequisite completed in time and would have to wait until the Fall 2012 semester to take Chem 111A. Hopefully that explains, if not exactly excuses, my beaviour (I'm typing this in a British accent, OK?).

Shortly after failing at registering for this class, I remembered that Cypress College is in the same community college district as Fullerton and I have equal registration privileges at each school. Much to my surprise, I was able to get on the wait-list for this class at Cypress! Hallelujah! I was number 9 on the list! I've been on two other wait-lists for other classes, and my experience has told me that the first 10-15 students can confidently assume that they will be added. As the start date drew near, my wait-list number continued to improve as other students dropped to add other classes. On the morning of the first class session I had moved up to number 6 on the list. I was really confident I would be able to join this class. My confidence couldn't have been more misplaced.

Showing up to class (an hour early, might I add) revealed something that would concern me right off the bat. The class clearly only held 27 students. There were only 27 stations and 27 stools. Still, I remained coolly confident that at least 6 students would not show, thus opening up a seat for yours-truly.

I expected students to trickle in as the start time drew near, but they did not. Ten minutes before the start time, there were only five of us there. Five minutes before start time equated to twelve people waiting. It was starting to look good for me. Well, to say that I underestimated community college students' procrastination would be a gross understatement; by start time the total number of students there was over 60. That number included all the registered students (which could have been up to 25), students on the wait-list, and petitioners.

At this point, I was running a little short on breath for good reason. In order for me to add this class, the following would need to occur: of the 60+ students there, only 19 could be registered students; for every registered student over the 19 mark present, one of the first five students on the wait-list would have to be absent. More and more my confidence began to wane.

Obviously, the lab professors first order of business was to deal with the add "situation." She began by telling the class that we would not know who was adding until the following day, and that it was not up to her, it was up to the lead instructor, Dr. Tomooka. She went on to describe, in horrific detail, the difficulty of the course and expectations of her and Dr. Tomooka. It was obvious she was trying to scare away people, particularly because she ended that speech with, "if you decide to leave right now, I would not blame you." She must have underestimated summer students' resolve because she was mildly astonished when exactly zero people left.

The next order of business was roll-call. The registered students were the first to be called. Of the 25 registered students, only 2 were absent. Three registered absences meant that there could only be a max of 4 adds to fill the 27 seats. If you recall, I was number 6 on the list. I was in a position of needing 2 of the first five wait-listed students to be absent. As she called out the names of the wait-list, the professor revealed yet another sick twist to the plot: she would not reveal wait-list placement, she called it out in alphabetical order. Now I had no idea where I stood, as far as my chances for adding this class. I would soon find out that the plot would continue to sicken and twist, kind of like an awesome roller coaster at Six Flags.

After the initial lab session came lecture. Dr. Tomooka turned out to be a little different than I imagined him. I will just say that he is not a typical professor with a PhD from Cal Tech, anything beyond that is irrelevant to this story.

Dr. T began by going over how improbable it is for people to add the class. He had not even decided if he would add more than the initial 25 allocated to the class. Dr. T continued by handing out index cards and asking us to write a brief explanation on why we wanted to add the class. It had just become clear why they would not tell us which order the wait-list ended; they had just added a level of subjectivity on who would be allowed to add the class!!!!!!  I felt the same disgust you must be feeling as you read this. Dr T swore that our wait-list position would have a bearing on his decision, but that he reserved the right to choose as he pleased.

Well, I must have slept a total of 2 hours that night. One of my biggest sources of stress is not knowing something and whether I was going to be able to add this class was definitely something I needed to know.

The next morning, Ms. Landis (our lab instructor) assured us that adds would be the first order of business. There were only about 30-35 students there on the second day. The absentees may have finally figured out that they were on a fool's errand, I was not so smart though.

Ms L first called out the registered students' names and added that any absences from that group would lead to a drop and consequently more seats available for adding. Much to my dismay, the same 23 students that showed the day prior were there. At least she assured us that Dr. D (it just occurred to me that Dr D would be a pretty cool rap name... hmm... I'll  look into that) was OK with using all 27 seats in the lab. There was to be 4 people added.

Next, Ms L read a list of "finalists" and asked that anybody not on that list kindly leave, for they had NO chance of adding the class. Luckily, I was on that list of "finalists."

As the room emptied of students who were not on that list, I noticed somebody leave who I had overheard the day prior claiming they were number 4 on the list. It was obvious that subjectivity had played a role in their choice of who was to add. Next, Ms L asked for a minute to calculate which "finalist" could add and which had to leave. By this time, water-boarding was sounding like a more acceptable form of torture.

She decided on four names. As she called out the names, my heart sank more and more every time it wasn't my name. She never called it. I was out.

It was somewhat of a relief to find out I wasn't going to be able to add the class. At least now I could plan my academic future, if I were to have one.

As I packed up my backpack, I noticed that I was the only one that would be leaving as a result of the last cut. As the whole class waited for me to exit, it occurred to me that she never verified that the names she called were present. Since I had nothing to lose at this point, I made a bold decision to delay the start of class further by asking her if I can add the class in the event of an absence from those on the final list. After what felt like an eternity of Ms L thinking about it, she asked if those students were there. You can't imagine how quickly my blood pressure went back up when the second name she called out was met with utter silence.

My instincts took over at this point. My eyes took on their best doe-like appearance, my head cocked to the perfect +67 degree angle (from horizontal) and I asked, "since there is an absence, is it possible for me to add this class?" To this day, I worry that it may have sounded more like "kwass" than "class."

Ms L had no choice but to consider my question, lest she look like a hard-ass to her new students. She responded with, "Well, I have to give him a little bit of time to show, but you are welcome to stick around in case he doesn't."

I'm in no way overselling this when I say that the next hour was akin to having someone holding your head underwater while simultaneously inflicting electric shocks to each of your toes while tickling your ribs. I call it, "giddy torture."

Well, to make a long story short, the last student did show, but way to late to be considered to add the class. I was given his seat, and here I am, a Chem 107 student during the summer.


If you are still reading this, I want to congratulate you on your endurance. I also challenge you to test our endurance by posting a story of college stress, whether it be adding classes, not being sure whether or not you would get financial aid/scholarship money in time to make tuition payments, or anything else that may make us cry, chuckle or both . Look forward to them.