Unlike Odysseus' tale, the most significant part of this odyssey is that it is not unique or remarkable in any way. What is real is that many students endure a long and arduous journey to get into classes, usually to find the ones they wanted in the first place. The frustrations to be articulated happen every term, and in some way occur to nearly every student at one point or another, usually more often than not. My academic interests are in no way a statistical anomaly. I major in government, one of the most popular in the school, and I'm a junior, which should put me on the top half of the priority deck. These setbacks have all occurred since the debate over class sizes gathered steam in this publication.
My quest began in the winter. I isolated 71 courses that intrigued me to some degree. I created a spreadsheet that displayed each course, the professor, the meeting time, the course limit, the previous median grades and the course guide review comments for each professor/course.
I cut my choices to 16 courses that I could plausibly see myself taking. I signed up on the registrar's page for three first choices and three second choices. After being bumped from my top choice, I shifted to Plan B -- going to the individual courses and begging.
I went to my first course, which was at capacity. I put my name on the waiting list and was told that the professor was unwilling to let it swell past the cap of 18. His dedication to not sacrificing the quality of his course as many others do out of sheer demand is commendable. I decided to wait through two two-hour classes even though I seemingly only had a marginal chance of getting in because if I didn't stay then I would have no chance at all. I had to prove my desire to enter the course. My next course was an advanced government seminar. I actually had to write an essay explaining why I should be allowed to take this course. The waiting list was about as long as the enrollment capacity. Unfortunately, it wasn't exactly what I had in mind, so all the good fortune I had in being selected was for naught and I gave up my spot.
Dropping a government course created a vacuum in my schedule. I needed something to contribute to my major, so I looked at the government listings. I found that, of the 11 courses offered that aren't advanced seminars -- which are impossible to get into at the grossly late stage of the first day in the term -- eight courses were over capacity. Two of the available courses were in political theory, and aren't in high demand for a reason. The third is actually in the subfield that I need. Sadly, it is the only course offered in the subfield I need, and is unappealing to put it mildly. The course that was most interesting to me had 106 students enrolled, which is 56 students above the stated capacity of 50. So I decided to fight the Cyclops yet again and beg.
I found one government course that only had 80 people in it. What did it matter that I didn't really care about the subject? At least I didn't despise it. I thought I had a puncher's chance. The professor signed my permission card. Now for $5,000, I have the pleasure of sitting in an overcrowded lecture hall listening to a professor I can barely hear talk about a subject that is by and large uninteresting to me.
I planned for my third course to be in a field completely outside my comfort zone, where I would use the non-recording option to try out something different. This is that academic curiosity thing that the College is supposed to value. I ended up sitting on a window sill in an African-American studies course. After deciding that it wasn't for me, I switched into a lecture that boasts 114 people. It would seem that those claiming government and economics are the only troubled departments haven't tried to take an Arabic course recently.
In fairness, not all is wrong with the course selection process. People in less popular majors probably will not have the same experiences. However, don't the popular majors characterize a substantial portion of the student body?
All told, I was denied the possibility to enroll in 12 courses that I was interested in taking spread over four departments. Few students go to the length that I do to find courses -- most simply accept the fate that they are handed and look for a backup course. But isn't it a problem that students accept this as the norm?
The continual assertions of the Wright administration that this problem doesn't exist are an insult to the academic pursuits of the undergraduate community. Excellence doesn't mean keeping up with everyone else and being able to cite the fact that other schools have the same problem. Dartmouth College should set the standard, especially in this regard.
