Academic Chaos Part Two...

A In between work and class on Wednesday I raced to Harold Washington to get my placement test results and settle up financial aid stuff. I had already switched everything over on my FAFSA form but wanted to stop by the office to make sure everything was fine. Getting my results took five seconds. I’m able to take college level English and only one remedial math class. YAY!!! I thought I would be stuck taking math forever. My perception changed when I saw that the level of math I would be taking is a high school level class. That is where my education with math stopped. How did I ever expect to take a college level class when I’ve never taken college level math? I found the financial aid office to be rather full. I had an hour before class. I took a number from the machine dispensing them at the door and sat down in a chair against the wall. I briefly stayed motionless feeling boredom creeping into my mind. I pulled out my novel from my purse and got to reading. Half and hour passed. Another fifteen minutes went by and I decided that I would be skipping class. Finally my number was called and I met with an advisor who advised me to pay for classes myself instead of taking out more loans. I know loans are a bad idea but school is stressful enough. I don’t want to be freaking out about money too. I signed some papers, got online to fill out more stuff and when I turned them in she said that I could apply for a scholarship based on my grades from high school. Wow. OK. I left and met up with Jeff. The following Monday I went back to Harold Washington to actually register for classes. I got there half an hour before the doors open and already there was a line of twenty people waiting. Once the doors opened we were separated into two lines. I got to stay in the line of people who had their placement test stuff done already. I thought it would move faster but no. When it was finally my turn, I handed over my paperwork and driver‘s license, beaming at being so super organized. “Is this the address that is on your application?” the woman asked. “No.” I shook my head feeling my chest tighten up. I still have a Georgia license. “You need to have proof of residence to register for classes.” I nearly burst into flames. WHAT?! I wanted to scream. NO ONE TOLD me I would need such documents!!! I calmly stated that and she simply repeated herself asking for a lease or a bill. I left and raced home not believing this was happening, and with tears stinging my eyes. I couldn’t miss another math class. I had about three hours to get home, get the lease, get back downtown and register. The line certainly wasn’t getting any shorter… At home I stormed around the kitchen tearing through a drawer to find our lease. I freaked the cats out with my stomping around and felt guilty about that hoping my neighbors weren’t home. Luckily public transportation was cooperating swimmingly. I caught the bus and train just as they were pulling up. I went back to stand in line, dealing with the same woman from earlier. She looked at my lease, typed some stuff on her computer and handed it back to me. The room was full of people. My anxiety was off the charts. I had no idea what classes I even wanted to take and how it was going to work. A man’s booming voice interrupted my mental freak out. He instructed all of us in the waiting area to move upstairs to continue registration. We all moved at a sloth’s pace out of the room, down the hall and up the stairs to a large open space with tables and chairs set up. The tables were for the advisors, and the rows of chairs for all of us. I sat in the middle of the middle row (I’m all about balance…) with a number I had been given by the woman who needed my lease. I watched the advising process for about a minute before pulling out my novel again. Concentrating was hard though. I was very aware of everything going on around me wondering what was going to happen to my schedule, hoping I wouldn’t have to rearrange work. “I should’ve brought a book.” a woman’s voice said to me. I looked up at a pretty black woman in a red dress with long waist-length braids draped over her shoulders as she sat down next to me. “I’m never without a book!” I laughed. “I’m usually not but today, I don’t know, I just walked out without it.” I smiled and shifted my attention to the addition of even more people joining us filling up neighboring chairs. “We’re gonna be here all day.” she sighed. “I know.” “Did you just graduate high school?” she asked. I laughed and told her no, but didn’t say how long it had been since I had seen my high school days. I went back to my book smiling to myself. Just out of high school I wore a lot of make-up and people thought I was much older. Now I’m doing good to get just the basics on and people think the opposite. In Evanston I am mistaken for being a Northwestern undergrad on a regular basis and I never tire of it knowing it will eventually come to an end. Two hours later my number is called. I had a vague idea of what I wanted to take at that point, having looked over the fall class schedule. I brought PCOM’s requirements with me so I could make sure I take their required courses even though after all that’s happened, I’m not so sure anymore that I’m going to stick with that plan. We’ll see. Of course a lot of classes are full already. I couldn’t quite believe how quickly all that happened. I am able to keep my work schedule in place and register for English 101, Art and Ideas (??) and of course Math 99. We can’t forget that one… “Hmm. This says you were denied financial aid.” my advisor is staring at her computer screen. “I was denied the Pell Grant but I’m taking out loans.” “Maybe that’s it. I don’t know though, I’d check that out if I were you. I’m going to print your schedule.” There is no way I’m denied financial aid… right? I stared at the computer screen. I see the word “denied” but surely that doesn’t pertain to my situation right? The words of another advisor, the one who led us up the stairs to this giant room bounce around in my head. “You must go to the business office after you register. If you don’t pay for your classes they will be dropped in twenty four hours and you will have to register again.” There is also no way I’m going to sit in that financial aid room again. At least not today. I can’t miss another math class at PCOM. Once I have my schedule I walk over to the business office and my schedule is stamped by a black woman with super short hair. “You’re all set.” she smiled, handing over my paperwork. “Thank you.” I returned her smile and left feeling uneasy as I raced over to PCOM. I met with my dean. I explained my situation and said that I was withdrawing. He apologized for the miscommunication and sent me to financial aid to fill out paperwork. Once I got there my head was spinning in all directions. The kind woman explaining everything to me looked at me a little oddly when I asked her to write everything down. I had to get online and do some “exit” stuff through PCOM’s website. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a really long day.” “That’s ok.” she beamed, handing over the slip of paper with my instructions on it. “Thank you.” I stood up and went to class feeling oddly numb for just having withdrawn. Numbers will not come easily..