The science of registering for classes

IT’S THAT TIME of the semester, and some would say that it’s pretty much the best part of the semester.

Yes, friends, it’s time to schedule classes. It’s time to decide what major classes you’re going to take, or what major you’re going to change to, or when you’re finally going to get around to seeing your adviser.

No adviser can make the really important decisions for you, decisions that will affect your development as a person.

Would taking a baroque humanities class rather than classical mythology be better, or will the latter be ultimately less useless?

But once that’s done, and you’ve chosen which 17 classes will fulfill your general education requirement before graduating and what 15 others you’ll use for your major, there are more important things to worry about.

Narrow down your classes by how early each is, what days it takes place, who teaches it, where it fits into your major, and what is supposed to be taught. In that order.

Most students have this down to a science — a science infinitely more interesting and useful than physics or chemistry — a science that essentially boils down to taking the right number of easy classes between noon and four in the afternoon.

Other students prefer to be busy between an early-morning pilates and a late-night poetry section. I knew someone like this.

He told me, without the slightest trace of one-upmanship, that he was taking upwards of 30 units in the next semester. He must have been eager to graduate.

His back was turned, so he didn’t see my jaw fully dislodge and hit the linoleum, but he heard the deafening bang and the stunned silence that immediately followed. I thought there was nothing he could say to make it my shock any worse.

“It’s not that bad.”

Maybe not.

“Really, I have six units in general education, and I’m just going to test out of those, so I really only have 26. Classes you’re not even going to take can’t count.”

I saw the logic in this, but he still plans to take more units than some freshmen get in a year-and-a-half. He has more than double of a full-time load.

“Three units are online and nobody even does any work for those classes anyway, so I’ll just do a little more work than anyone else. How could I get anything less than a B? So I really only have 23.”

Even with this, he plans to pass more units than some freshmen collect in a year, albeit those freshmen that have a rather drunken first year.

“And then I have eight units that I’m taking credit/no credit, so I’ll pick those up before breakfast in the morning, sometime between yawning and brushing my teeth. I’m barely at 15.”

Freshmen that rush a frat row Greek-letter organization are at about that many units in a year, but at least this is a normal load now. I saw his point.

“On top of all that, I’m in choir, two bands and a dance class. That’s four units of ‘show up and get an A.’ That makes up for any class I get a B in, like that online class, and moreover it’s only 11 hours a week plus performances.

“That’s not even full-time.”

He really was taking it light.

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