I’ll get right to the point: Summer classes suck. They don’t even suck in the traditional sense of the word. “Ah, man, everyone is saying your sister’s a whore. That sucks.” Not like that. Summer session classes could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch. In a perfect world, they wouldn’t exist.
It’s not that I don’t appreciate having the option to take a class in the summer. It’s a nice excuse to stay on campus with great weather, regularly drink until you can’t see your feet, and eventually get skin cancer later in life from spending so much time in the sun. I respect that choice. We’ve all done it. Although it may seem like it, that’s usually not the main reason why anyone signs up for one. There are really only three reasons why you’d sign up for a summer class:
1. You’re a gigantic dork and trying to get ahead academically.
2. You heard from Lindsay’s sorority sister’s boyfriend’s roommate that the professor is REALLY hard and you want to take the class at a community college.
3. You have to take the class again because you failed it in the spring.
Reason #1 is for the kids who want to graduate in three years and go to med school so they can make 400k a year removing prostate glands. Good for you, Sanjay. Your wife from your arranged marriage probably won’t love you, but at least you graduated college ahead of schedule thanks to that summer class. Reason #2 is for those who have a crippling fear of experiencing any difficulty in their lives. It’s probably a good idea to pad that GPA with an easy class at the community college back home. Your first job probably won’t be a result of nepotism, like, at all. Grow up.
If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m taking a summer class. What’s my reason? #3. If you must know, I’m actually setting a new personal record by having to take a class for the third time. I’m a disappointment. Fuck you. This isn’t about me. The motivation to take a summer class is driven by necessity rather than a desire to pursue intellectual stimulation. You’re just there, sad and filled with regret, counting down the seconds until it’s over. Kind of like every girl who’s ever had sex with me.
To make matters infinitely worse, summer classes always bring out the worst types of kids on campus. There’s always that one dude who wears a tank top in order to showcase that he lifts heavy metal objects more than others. There are the people who wear flip flops, exposing their gross feet to the world. Uh yeah, professor, I don’t mean to interrupt, but Brian over here has feet that smell like he just walked through a valley of dog shit in Middle Earth for seven years. I need to leave.
Reader’s note: My hateful tone probably has you thinking I’m like 5’5” and always like this. I’m actually six feet tall, and to prove it to you I’m about to hit you with some positive points. Brace yourself, motherfucker.
If you’re lucky, you might get a cool professor that doesn’t look like he wants to die while reading lecture slides. I had a great professor one summer named Brad (affectionately known as B-Rad G), who skateboarded to class. I spent that entire summer trying to figure out how he didn’t suffocate in pussy on the reg. We had a small class where everyone apparently knew each other. I ended up getting a C+, but I didn’t learn anybody’s name out of principle so I really got like a soft A-.
As it stands, my push for the abolishment of summer classes has virtually no evidence to back it. There are probably even some statistics out there that indicate summer classes make students more successful. But this is America, where my dumb fucking opinion absolutely does not mean a thing. But you’ve read my appeal and probably half-considered sending weapons grade anthrax to my house. That’s enough for me, especially when I’m sitting in the back row of this class hoping that a government satellite falls out of the sky and kills me..