Grrrr, I am not happy.
My problem is that I depend on other people to keep track of things for me. Look, I have a lot on my mind, all right? So. I'm likely to be the one who occasionally lifts her head and says, "Oh, hey, what day are we registering?" And so when someone tells me, "Oh, Tuesday the 13th," and that sounds reasonably like what I remembered getting in the mail, I believe her. It does not occur to me to check and make sure that's correct, because I am a moron. Well, it turns out that the 13th is for non-degree seeking grad students. I was supposed to have registered yesterday. (Now, by "for" I mean "the first day they could have." I can register any day I damn well feel like it up to and including the day the class starts. The date is important only in the sense of jumping on a hot class ASAP to secure your place.)
So, number one, lazy trusting idiot. Number two, shit out of luck idiot, because I need more 600-level seminars because I didn't read the course description thoroughly enough to realize I needed to be taking those (seeing a pattern here?) and there are no 600-level seminars being given in the summer. Seriously, I think there was going to be a Dickens seminar, but the woman canceled to go do something else. I don't know. Clifton tells me this. Oh, but there's one 600 left, a non-literature class--Practicum In Teaching Writing.
You're probably not hearing the DUN DUN DUN!! in your head because you're not privy to one of my mother's favorite themes, which is the What Classes Do You Need to Take to Become a Licensed Teacher Adagio for Nags. Never mind that there's nothing I can take to be a qualified teacher--there's no magic bullet class to do it, because that's a completely different degree, fool. I keep saying this and saying this, but she's convinced that there's like two or three classes I can take that will magically enable me to teach public K-12. And I don't even want to teach (but writers can't be choosers)--I think that's my theme song, actually. In fact, I think that's why I put my back up and start hissing like a mad cat every time education classes are mentioned, because if I take them, I might actually have to teach.
(You know what the worst part is? I've tutored in English, Spanish, and occasionally French, and I seem to have a knack for explaining things. I would probably, actually be a good teacher. But I just have this horror of bureaucratic dicking-around--the behind-the-scenes politics and blah blah blah. And a short temper. I wouldn't last 30 minutes in a high school classroom--I'd try nicely to get them to sit down and be quiet, and it wouldn't work, and then I'd just snap and start shrieking, "EVERYONE SIT THE FUCK DOWN AND SHUT THE GODDAMN HELL UP!" And they would forcibly escort me from the building and I would never teach again.)
So what's the one class available? Practicum. In Teaching. Writing. Adagio for Nags wins. Hurrr.
Here's the real reason this depresses me so much: I believe that things happen for a reason. Clearly, some higher power wants me to take practicum so badly that s/he has swept the board clean of any other class I could take, and this frightens me. (But hey, it frightens me less than the idea that the universe is completely random and chaotic. What're you gonna do.) And I am really, really hoping that "because you're gonna have to teach" is not the reason this higher power has in mind.
But it's done. I'm registered. And I'm taking May off--that's my summer vacation, folks. May. The class is June-August, T/TH 10:20-12:25. I hate the time and I hate the days, but again: what're you gonna do.