Western Oregon Journal

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            Last year, I prided myself in taking 18 or 19 credits per term. I did well in my classes, and found that I completed them relatively easily. When I spoke to my friends (who were either seniors or graduate students), they all concurred that upper-division classes would be a lot harder than the classes I was currently taking. I didn’t believe them. I didn’t want to believe them. My philosophy on education is that as we get older, and our understanding increases, the courses become harder, but we do not notice the change as our capacity for knowledge is directly proportional to the courses we’ve already taken as well as our understanding of that material. Therefore, over time, upper-division classes should seem as rigorous as a lower-division class to someone who has already completed lower-division segments.

            This year, as I am finishing my Liberal Arts Core Curriculum (LACC) classes, I am gradually changing from taking 100- and 200-level classes to taking 300- and 400-level courses, which is exciting and scary at the same time. Before registration for this spring, I had much to consider. Like all the other students here, I was required to meet with my adviser. We decided on classes I would take, and I luckily got into each class I wanted. I had planned on taking 17 credit hours.

            Later that month, I was asked to take on another four credit hours for an independent writing study. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity. I would then be taking 21 credits. When I went to my adviser so that she could sign the overload waiver, she looked at me, and just said, “Why are you doing this?” She thought I was nuts. I knew I wasn’t.

            My schedule looked awesome: no class on Fridays and lots of open time to work or do homework. Despite all of my friends’ pessimism at my course load, I knew that spring term would be great, and I’d fly through my course load of five upper-division classes and one LACC class.

            Spring Break came and went, and I was ready to begin all of my fabulous classes. After the first day of class, I was excited; after the second day, I was stressed; after the third day, I was overwhelmed; after the fourth day, I was having an anxiety attack. However, being the person who I am, I decided to simply brave the stress, as I’d gotten through a heavy course load before, and finish out the term.

            There were so many reasons to keep all of the classes: I would get so far ahead in my coursework, and it would be so much fun to boast to everyone how I am taking 21 credits of upper-division, writing-intensive classes.

            By the first week, everyone who knew me was either asking me if I was crazy or what I was thinking signing up for six challenging classes. I just told my friends that it was hard, but sort of relished in the perverse spotlight.

            By the beginning of week three, I was going out of my mind. It was getting harder and harder to balance the ever-growing pile of homework, and harder and harder to be able to go to work and not feel like I was wasting my time by not writing an essay or reading an ethnography.

            I felt completely lost and drowning in a sea of books, mathematics and essays.

            Speaking with my mom made things momentarily better, when she told me that I’d get through it, but as hours went by, I became more and more sure that I wouldn’t get through the term alive.

            I spoke with one of my good friends about my doubts, and she suggested that I drop one of my classes. I had never even considered this option, and I wasn’t sure if it’d be a good idea—I wouldn’t be able to brag any longer, and I wouldn’t be as ahead in my major if I dropped.

            I let her suggestion mull over for a bit, and decided that dropping a class would be the best option. The decision was torturous and very hard to make, but as soon as I filled out the automated forms, a heavy weight seemed to be lifted from my shoulders. I immediately felt less stressed, and able to better manage all of my work.

            I decided that ultimately, it would be better for me, personally, to drop a class and be more successful overall, than to obstinately keep all six courses and maybe not do so well, but be able to brag to everyone. In the long run, I realize that I will be happier for accepting the advice of my friend than being naïve and stubborn. Likewise, make decisions that will benefit you not only in the future, but also in the present. Make decisions for your overall well-being, even if that means relinquishing a bit of your pride. In a few years from now, you won’t be looking back at how many credit hours you took, but in how successful you were altogether.

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