Ah, College

"An ounce of preparation…"



I was surprised last Tuesday to wake up with a full day of classes ahead of me. For the fourth year in a row, an otherwise lovely summer had been ruined by the start of a new school year. Though, it's not too bad, given how bad I'm probably going to feel next September when that mysterious fifth school year starts.



Every year, I have the same problem. I stay up to some ridiculous hour the night before classes start and end up exhausted the next day. My freshman and sophomore years, I was so out of it that all I remember was turning off my alarm. The next thing I knew, it was nine o'clock at night and I was holding seven or eight syllabi, two of which were from classes I was actually taking.



Luckily, your first day back doesn't require much mental power. It's essentially a matter of just making it to the right room at more or less the right time. You take a schedule, you go around the room and introduce yourselves, and you're headed back home. That is, if your professor knows what's good for him.



Unfortunately, last year I made the mistake of getting only one hour of sleep before class. As with the previous years, the day was basically a blur. Only this time, I woke up holding a handful of take-out menus and a pamphlet on Scientology.



This year, I had a plan. I decided it would be a good idea to prepare as far in advance as possible. I would have my clothes washed and set out the night before class. My books would be purchased and in my bookbag, which would be hung on my door. And a week before class started, I'd start going to sleep no later than midnight. That way, by the time class began, I'd have no trouble waking up.



Looking back, I see I was completely right – that would've been a really good idea.



I ended up getting somewhere in the area of two hours hours of sleep the night before. I'm not exactly sure what happened to ruin my plans of getting a full nine hours. Or why exactly I thought the second cycle of Adult Swim would be any different from the first.



There are a lot of people I know who can function on so little sleep. For example, I have it on good authority that my dad sleeps as little as two hours every night. Yet, within an hour of waking up, he can be dressed, get to work, and have several trucks fully loaded with heavy machinery. With the same amount of sleep, I spent nearly that much time pawing at my alarm clock from under the covers, trying to turn it off.



As I crawled out of bed, I was greeted by the pile of laundry I'd intended to wash for the past three weeks. It was too bad. Your first day of class is the day when you really get to put your best foot forward by putting a lot of effort into your personal appearance and wearing your best clothing. I'm still not sure which foot I ended up putting forward that day. Let's just say it was both a blessing and a curse that I hadn't worn the uniform from my summer job since I last washed it.



By the time I found my bookbag (just where I'd left it last May), I was late. I ended up sprinting to class, stopping only briefly to actually buy my books. I walked into class wearing my work uniform, sweating, with uncombed hair, so late that I was basically just really early for the next class. For the first time, I actually dreaded the idea of having to introduce myself.



I wondered what clever line I could use to win the class over. To salvage any hope of anyone in that class respecting me for the next four months. Eventually, I just decided to tell them all the truth.



"My name is Matt," I sighed. "I'm a fourth year student majoring in Archaeology. And it's my laundry day."



Oh, well. There's always my second senior year.