To school we go

I have a difficult to explain relationship with school. On one hand I love learning new things (nerd.) and seeing friends and taking notes and having new pens and pencils and notebooks etc. but on the other hand there is always homework involved. Which is not so much my favorite.

With school starting next week (I can't decide if it's a good thing or not) I've been mentally preparing myself for possibly the busiest semester yet. And as it's my last semester I've been remembering my very first semester. I had just moved to BYU in Provo and was a little homesick but mostly loving life. The first day of classes I was a bit nervous and a lot intimidated but I made it through okay until my very last class. It was a psychology class. When I walked into the building and found my classroom I was horrified to discover the class was already full of students and the teacher was up front talking to everyone. So I completely tossed my brains and reason out the window and speed walked into that classroom. I walked right past the teacher lecturing and squeezed me and my bulky backpack past fifteen students and into the middle of the third row. I set my backpack on the floor and took out my pens and notebook ready to soak in everything the teacher was talking about and hoping I hadn't missed too much already.

Then I looked up at the board and saw math problems.

As I had been avoiding a math class like the plague, I knew something was wrong.

So I leaned over to the kid next to me who I had just squeezed past and squished with my backpack and asked him what class this was. He replied that it was indeed a math class and definitely not the psychology class I was looking for.

I panicked for just a second trying to figure out what to do. Obviously I needed to get out of there as soon as possible, look at my schedule again and figure out which room my psychology class was in.

So I stood up, grabbed my backpack, again squeezed past the fifteen students, walked right by the teacher lecturing, and was almost out the door when...

The bell rang.

The current teacher dismissed his math class and my psychology class began to file in the room.

Oh my heavens.

I could have died from embarrassment. Like the spastic freak I am I had forgotten to use some common sense, look at the time, and realize that I was just a few minutes early to my class and the class before mine hadn't finished yet.

The only thing worse than this embarrassment was the fact that the exact same thing happened the first day of the next semester.

I've chilled out a bit since those days, but I still have bad dreams about not going to class or forgetting to copy down my schedule and wandering aimlessly around campus before the start of every semester...including last night.

I'm kind of a freak.

But my plan now is to enjoy the last few days of freedom before putting my nose to the grindstone and doing whatever it takes to make it through the next four months.

Wish me luck!