By Taylor Broomall (Whetstone Staff)
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“You’re Classes.â€
That’s what the sign outside the registrar’s window had labeled on the picture of a small box being carried by a forklift; the attention-grabbing graphic for a reminder to sign up for classes on time. I’m not sure I understood the pictorial metaphor, but maybe I could not get past the biting irony of the flagrant grammar mistake.
This is the omen that began my troubles with the registrar’s office. There always seems to be unsolvable problems that bring students again and again to that large window on the third floor of College Center.
My journey began sometime around mid-August as I was sitting at work watching paint dry (literally, I was working at a sign-making shop). I received a call from the head of the Media Arts department, Dr. Mike Nielsen.
“Are you coming back to Wesley?†he asked, following a nice conversation about his summer travels to Maine. I told him I was and I was looking forward to taking a class with him. He told me that I had not signed up for any classes and the situation needed to be dealt with right away.
This made me laugh.
The previous semester, I talked to the registrar’s office extensively about signing up for classes the semester after summer break. I made sure to try and sign up quickly and early, as I needed to take specific classes for my graduation requirements.
When Wesley JICS wasn’t working, as expected, I ventured to the registrar’s office and filled out a form and got signatures for every single class I wanted to take. I was told, for the first time, that everything would be handled and I could go into my summer break without worry.
I should’ve worried.
I couldn’t fathom why I was not registered – after the plethora of forms I filled in, numerous questions asked, and myriad reassurances that everything was going swimmingly – nothing had been done and there was no sign of the forms and papers I diligently filed.
Enter my saving grace.
She may work at Wesley College and go by the name Frances Riddle, but, indeed, she is my guardian angel of class-kicking. Mrs. Riddle was so quick and helpful that I promised her flowers upon my return to school. She settled my registration issues and took care of business on both fronts, allowing me to return to Wesley, only this time better prepared to face the challenges put forth by the registrar. She informed me, for the second time, that everything was going to be OK.
It wasn’t.
This brings me to my first two days at school, the fall semester of 2012, the year of my graduation.
It is my fifth trip to the registrar’s office in these first two days. I explained that I had tried to sign up for classes online but the Wesley JICS system seemed to be faltering, again, and I was seeking assistance. They told me that I had to fill out two forms, each with five signatures consisting of my advisor, then by the professor of the class, then the head of academic affairs, again by the head of the department in which I am seeking the class, then by the remaining member of the Bee Gees, and finally back to be signed by the registrar.
Thankfully, after all this was done, she told me that everything would be sorted out and as long as I had received advisory approval (I did) and at least picked my classes online (I had). Everything was ready to go.
I understand that mistakes can be made. To err is human, to forgive divine. But perhaps I’m just not the godly type.
Maybe I should find the blame rest upon my own shoulders. Maybe I was too early to relax in a system that seems to rely on third-times-a-charm competency.
There is one week of classes left and I’m still a bit worried.
