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Destructive Satisfaction

 

             They want to be accepted in the dense crowds of crazy, drunk college intellects. Many freshmen do not take the time to learn what classes they must enroll in during their first year in college. Some nerds loose sleep prior to registration day hoping there is space still available in their most desired class. The moment of truth arrives, they can no get in. The online registration website can say many different phrases to you to prevent your enrollment into the class: This course is closed, please choose an alternative; Need permission from instructor to enroll in this course; This course's schedule conflicts with another class; Minimum requirements for this course has not been meet. This website will tell you anything just to stop you from putting your name down on the class rooster. However, nothing could prohibit me form registering into the classes I wanted.
             In mid-August, proceeding my freshmen year, I was eager to get into Statistics 100A. I desired to take a math class and I had already finished the Math 9 series; math is my favorite field of study. When I tried to sign up for the class using the online registration program, it told me that I had to get permission form the professor to take this class. This was bizarre to me because I had all the prerequisites meet. I was not satisfied with this response and I had to get into the class quickly or the class would have filled up. Getting worried about my fate at the new school persuaded me to try two, three, four more times just to receive the same response. Soon enough, anger started to crawl into my finger tips while sitting at my desk. I had began tapping my finger nails on the desk (first the small finger, the ring finger until the pointing finger, then back to the small one) frustrated to find a solution to my problem. Then it hit me, like a kicked ball directed towards my balls, I should go to the source, the statistics department.


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