I know my brand: funny-guy-poetic-slacker who turns out to be a magnificent lover. But academically, my brand is chill. Let’s find the best way to get the most credit for doing the least amount of work. This all came to a head when I was scouring the course catalog searching for my easiest options. A friend and I found a pass/fail refereeing class that only lasted eight weeks. He signed up right away, I signed up that night, and we thought everything was golden.
As it turned out, our schedules did not match as we had planned. I realized that I was in a different section than him, and it turned out to be learning officiating for a different sport. When I attempted to enroll in his section the website would not allow it, citing my inclusion in the same course already. Thus begins the winding road that lead to me changing part of my school’s academics forever.
I’ll try to break this down as simply as possible.
The description of the course stated that it would include four sports – football, basketball, soccer, or softball. It became clear that when the course was initially created, it was designed to teach about refereeing all four of the sports listed, but over time they realized that was too much to cover. So, it had been restructured into one sport per section (1 section per 8 weeks of semester). But this change was made informally, so the computers thought that this course could only be taken one time, which is why I was not allowed to enroll in more than one section. I, however, needed to take it more than once because it’s extremely important to my education that I get to play flag football and not to go real class.
I scheduled a meeting with a secretary in the registrar’s office. I aired my grievances and I was surprised to see how much she was entertaining from me. I explained that this class was such bullshit, that no one from the administration had checked on it in years. She asked if I had any free time and seeing as how I am literally addicted to lying to authority figures I told her that I had all the time in the world and agreed to wait and meet with someone higher up in the office.
Her boss called me into his office some time later and we repeated the process. Yet again, I was shocked at just how much he cared about this “issue.” He nodded fervently whenever I made a point about the value of a diverse education. He shook his head with exasperated agreement when I said that it hurt to see administration overlook the course catalog — what was effectively our bible as students. He would lightly pound his fist on the desk as I told him that I wanted to get the most out of my time there. I spent an entire semester learning about those nuggets of gold. So yeah, you could say I’m a student with a diverse academic portfolio.
After a 45-minute meeting, I was passed up the ladder once again. Now I was face to face with, who I must assume was THE registrar. And if you think I’m “wrong” or “that’s not how the office of the registrar works” then you’re a nerd who just needs to enjoy the story. It was honestly getting a bit boring for me at that point. I had been at this all day and I began to question whether or not it was worth it. When the tide began to turn and the night seemed darkest, a voice rang from within me. Maybe it was the holiday spirit, but it sounded more like the oddly (fucking suspiciously) deep voice of our founder and CEO, Madison Wickham. “Deal closers only,” it barked to me. Yes, this was a deal that needed to be closed.
For the third and final time, I explained my situation. For the third and final time, I was listened to and agreed with. Right there on the spot he superseded the computer’s commands and enrolled me into the second section of the course. He sent me on my way after telling me that he would change the parameters of the course’s restrictions for enrollment, altering it for students in the future. He made sure to thank me, and emailed me throughout the semester following up on my experiences from the class.
As I walked out of there, after skipping a class crucial to my graduation, to attempt to force my way into a class that was borderline meaningless to my life, I felt incredibly vindicated. I had confirmed my own suspicions that I was a Golden God and a Five Star Man and I had left a real legacy behind at the school. Fraternity dumbasses and lazy athletes for generations to come will reap the rewards of my hard work. And like many true heroes that have come before me, no one will know that it was me who made the future of tomorrow possible. I did it not for personal reward, but for progress.
But it’s also very important to me that people know that this happened due to my actions, so I wrote this article..