Tangled Strings

I am not a superstitious person, but I believe that there are ways to listen to any message that arrives, by any means.  I read fortune cookie notes, I listen if someone wants to read my horoscope aloud, and I will even glance over the subject lines of the messages in my bulk and junk mail folders before I delete them all.  Life sends reminders and chaos has its purpose in the Cosmic Scheme of Things.  Thus, when a friend offered to do a completely unofficial Tarot Card reading for me, I was game for the experience.  I have had poor luck with such things all my life, but I also steer by other stars; this was for fun.

I asked about my chances for success in my current educational endeavors: currently working on the last two classes needed for my BA in U.S. History.  The cards essentially came back with “Rotsa ruck!” and the clear indication that signs did not point to success.  While not encouraging, and while it wasn’t the message my friend would have chosen to give me, there was still plenty of room for interpretation.  I chose to consider the message of the cards as a challenge to my creativity, and I took a second look at my methods to date.  What was I doing, and what else could I do?

Emails weren’t working as a method of contact with the local university, but I work near the campus, so I tried the direct approach.  A quick visit to their Information Booth equipped me with a map and a few words of directional advice; from there I parked my car in a visitors’ lot and started hiking.  In the course of the afternoon, I visited the History department, the Registrar’s office, and the Admissions office.

The biggest problem I faced was the competition for seats in a class.  Courses at the 400-level are offered to upperclassmen – kids who have been in the school system, chosen their majors, and know what they must do to complete their studies.  The largest classes offered at the 400 level accept only 15 students, and others accept ten or only five students.  As such, long before the Spring semester has ended, students have already raced to lock in their seats for Fall – every one of the classes I asked about had been filled and closed.

However, the kindly Secretary of the History Department explained the rules: the professors have the final say on their classes.  What I needed to do was write to the professor who would be teaching the course I wanted to take, explaining who I am, why I need the course, and asking permission to be a student in that course.  Once I had a note from the professor accepting me, I was in, and it was a simple matter of printing off the emailed acceptance and bringing that, along with my “non-matriculated student” application form, to the Admissions office.  I have both papers in-hand now, and am ready to find out how much I will have to pay for the privilege.

Coming up this Fall:  Women & Social Movements in 20th Century U.S.