Arms Race: The Registration Week dash is now underway, and only you can minimize the casualties
Maria Schmitt
Issue date: 3/27/08 Section: Opinion
The Registration Week fight-to-the-death has begun. The war instinct arises - deprived of an actual battle ground and actual weapons, we fight in offices and the dining hall, armed with nothing more than our wits and transferred credits.
The registrar's office becomes a battleground; Delp Hall, a refuge for professors. They barricade themselves in their offices, afraid of students on the offensive. Meanwhile, students foam at the mouth, waving white schedule cards frantically in front of the professor of a desired class. They slowly drop to their knees, begging for a signature.
But before the blood bath, sheath your sword and think about this.
While we flip through pages of class listings and scribble numbers onto our schedule cards, we could work on being a little more humane.
This is Hillsdale after all and virtue, honor and chivalry should never be replaced by barbarism, no matter how desperate you are. We pride ourselves on being good citizens, don't we?
Go ahead, let your buddy register in front of you.
(Just pray a dreaded addition to the closed-class list doesn't occur after your act of charity).
Be a friend and let the kid with fewer credits into the obscure British literature class. Sure, you transferred 34,920 AP credits. But look at him. He's a senior, and you can put off taking that upper-level English class he needs for his B.A.
One of the most important things to remember about our time at Hillsdale is that it only lasts four years. In the long run, one semester without a professor you're fawning over won't kill you.
Neither will letting someone else have a go at a sweet class.
Put someone else's schedule before your own and earn yourself some karma points.
Hell, take a racquetball class. It might boost your GPA (depending on your skill), and you'll burn calories. How is that not better than working your butt off in an upper level political economy class?
(Oh right, this is Hillsdale. The course offering booklet reads to us like an imported beer list at MSU.)
I challenge you to show your humanity, Hillsdale. Give the other kid your spot. Toss the selfishness aside. Put down your sword and accept your 15 credits. Go have some fun.
In 20 years you won't remember missing that one random class, but you may be a little more generous and that's what really matters.
The registrar's office becomes a battleground; Delp Hall, a refuge for professors. They barricade themselves in their offices, afraid of students on the offensive. Meanwhile, students foam at the mouth, waving white schedule cards frantically in front of the professor of a desired class. They slowly drop to their knees, begging for a signature.
But before the blood bath, sheath your sword and think about this.
While we flip through pages of class listings and scribble numbers onto our schedule cards, we could work on being a little more humane.
This is Hillsdale after all and virtue, honor and chivalry should never be replaced by barbarism, no matter how desperate you are. We pride ourselves on being good citizens, don't we?
Go ahead, let your buddy register in front of you.
(Just pray a dreaded addition to the closed-class list doesn't occur after your act of charity).
Be a friend and let the kid with fewer credits into the obscure British literature class. Sure, you transferred 34,920 AP credits. But look at him. He's a senior, and you can put off taking that upper-level English class he needs for his B.A.
One of the most important things to remember about our time at Hillsdale is that it only lasts four years. In the long run, one semester without a professor you're fawning over won't kill you.
Neither will letting someone else have a go at a sweet class.
Put someone else's schedule before your own and earn yourself some karma points.
Hell, take a racquetball class. It might boost your GPA (depending on your skill), and you'll burn calories. How is that not better than working your butt off in an upper level political economy class?
(Oh right, this is Hillsdale. The course offering booklet reads to us like an imported beer list at MSU.)
I challenge you to show your humanity, Hillsdale. Give the other kid your spot. Toss the selfishness aside. Put down your sword and accept your 15 credits. Go have some fun.
In 20 years you won't remember missing that one random class, but you may be a little more generous and that's what really matters.
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