Dearest Tiffany and Earl,
How do I register for my classes?
The Entirety of the Freshman Class
Have you ever seen The Hunger Games? If not, you’re seriously behind on both your pop culture and your knowledge on how registration works.
On the day of registration, you and the rest of the poor souls who weren’t allowed to pre-register wake up before the sun and groggily prepare for war. You see, there are only so many openings for that philosophy class you have your eye on, and there’s no way you’re going to take it at 8:30 a.m.
When the huge, terrifying clock counts down, you shakily type your PIN number into CyberFriar and desperately try not to mess it up—if you type it incorrectly, you’re going to be mowed down within the first 30 seconds.
You’re in, and then it becomes a dead sprint to the classes that you want. Don’t hesitate when typing in all the class codes. Do you type in all of them at once or save time by going for the ones you really need first?
That’s your decision, but don’t be surprised if I come out of nowhere and side-tackle you because I’m not about to end up in that 8:30 a.m.
The best thing you can do is do like Earl do, baby. Earl’s never made a plan for course registration in his life. Earl’s a one man party and any class would be lucky to have him. So you want to know how I register for classes? Well now, I don’t. Everyone wants a piece of the Earl. Classes actually register for me these days. Professors all wake up early and fight for which one of them gets the pleasure of teaching and learning from your boy.
However, there was a time before Earl was Earl. In those days, I had to register the plain, old way like you chumps. Like I said though, I never made plans. Do you think I got to where I am by making plans? I’ve never sat down at a library desk with a laptop and piece of notebook paper making potential schedules like some kind of nerd.
Your boy Earl would just wake up those days at whatever time he wanted. That’s right—I slept in. Everytime. Once I woke up, I’d go get something to eat and then when I felt good and ready I’d jump on the good old interweb. I’d register for whatever looked cool and was left. I wowed any professor and classmates I had with my amazing looks and natural charm that, after one semester, I was given priority registration access and professors were fighting for me. That’s right, I was only a nobody for one semester. Just kidding, I was never a nobody, it just took one semester for everyone to realize that Earl was, in fact, Earl, baby.