Why I am disappointed in my University

I had my whole senior year mapped out.

Some time early last semester I met with my adviser and was told I had dutifully completed all of my required courses and all I had left to do was take 15 credit hours in absolutely anything, and I was home free.  

Because the grants I use to pay for school would not extend past my fourth year, which I would not be able to afford otherwise, knowing I was going to graduate was a relief.

When I asked friends for advice on what to take, they all told me similar things.

Take classes you care about. Don’t slack off. Do an independent study. As an art student especially, one aspect of my time here that has been almost invaluable are the incredible studio facilities to which I wouldn’t otherwise have access. I had the perfect schedule, and I was so excited.

I met with my adviser again later to discuss graduation. At this meeting I was told that in actuality, in my pursuit of a studio art major and an art history minor, I had maxed out the credits I could take within the School of Fine Arts.

This meant that all but two of the classes I had enrolled in wouldn’t even count toward my graduation, and with only a few weeks before the start of the term, I had to enroll in 10 credit hours of new classes.

I knew this was going to be a challenge, sure, but I had no idea the sheer difficulty I would have in creating a schedule.

As soon as I found a class I wanted to take, there were roadblocks.

Most classes were full. Those that weren’t full wouldn’t fit into my schedule.

Those that weren’t full and did fit into my schedule had prerequisites, exorbitant class fees, impossibly expensive textbooks or had little to offer me in terms of real intellectual interest.

But at the end of the day, what choice did I have?

I enrolled in six classes total, and since then I’ve been floundering.

With both my current job and future prospects on my mind, in the classes I do care about I have little time to actually produce work and grades I am proud of.

Other classes have felt remedial to the point of exhaustion, as I waste my time memorizing information I will never again want or need to recall.

I feel alienated by my peers and professors. I feel unwelcome in my own classrooms. I feel like I am hemorrhaging money I don’t have in order to entertain prospects to which I am neither interested nor entitled.

It’s unfortunate that I am leaving my University on such a bad note. I have had some classes where I truly do feel I have grown and have felt supported by my fellow students and instructors.

At graduation, however, I will attend listlessly. I am spent as I don’t have the energy to even think I could attempt to make a difference.

It is the most I can do to even conjure up the anger to write this column, which I will submit on time. I’ll then dutifully make a pot of coffee, get dressed and walk to class. I’ll take notes and finish all of my work.  

I won’t complain anymore. I’ll barely even talk.

­— alliston@indiana.edu