Written by Meghan Schultz
On a cold December morning freshman year, my hallmates and I marched (or, more realistically, dragged ourselves) out into the lower west lobby of McIntyre Dorm at a bright 6:45 a.m. Class registration was at 7 a.m., and in nervous college student fashion, we were not going to sleep through the moment that would decide our daily routines for the next three months.
“We got this! It’ll work out.” We comforted each other, still triple- and quadruple-checking settings on WebAdvisor and loading extra tabs, just in case. I opened the registration page on my phone, too—because what if my computer spontaneously broke, the WiFi went out, and my cellular data was the only source of hope left?
Well, that’s almost exactly what happened.
At 7 a.m., we each pressed “Submit,” and while my computer’s tabs crashed, I watched, fingers and toes crossed, as my phone’s only tab loaded, loaded, loaded—and mercifully informed me I had successfully registered for my second semester of college.
The lobby filled with shouts of both joy and concern. Some of us had filled our class schedule, and some were joining second options or contacting professors. “I’m going back to bed,” girls announced over the sound of typing hopeful emails: Do you have any spots left in your class? I would still love to take it! In the end, everyone filled their schedule with what they needed, and we went back to sleep or up the hill to morning classes.
Despite the chaos, my first registration filled me with gratitude as I observed the supportive community gathered in the McIntyre lobby and the generosity of understanding professors responding to emails.
Gathered with girls who had gone from strangers to friends over the last two months, I laughed at my own worry. I was nervous for registration because I was so excited about the classes I would get to take. I would get to spend the next semester poring over some of the best books ever written, whether or not I got the classes I expected. I may have been nervous in the moment, but far more importantly, I was blessed to be in a place where I eagerly anticipated continuing my education.
Yes, registration is a crazy fifteen minutes, but each semester, I wouldn’t want to panickedly press “Submit” anywhere but Hillsdale.
For Further Reading:
Meghan Schultz, ’23, is an English major who loves a cup of coffee and a good story, preferably together. A Michigan native who appreciates fall drives and summer days at the lake, she aspires to be a book editor and enjoys working in youth ministry.
Published in March 2021