Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Learning the Liberal Art of Registration

Learning the Liberal Art of Registration

By Colin Murphy

Hmm. Class registration: Aug. 31. At least that was what it said in the handy-dandy, all-important New Student Orientation guidebook. Finally, no more Late Night at Yates. No more small group meetings. No more eating buffet-style on the Leavey Esplanade to get to know your classmates. It was time for real college. You know – the stuff that “Revenge of the Nerds,” “Animal House” and my dad’s fraternity stories were made of.

As I walked past the looming facade of Healy Hall, I couldn’t help but notice the bounce in my step and the scruff that I left on my face that morning. I couldn’t be bothered to shave. I was a college man, preparing to get the ball rolling as I sounded my barbaric yawp over the solar panels of ICC. Upon further observation, it looked as if I was going to have to control that ball or else risk crushing the 40 other freshmen who waited in line at registration with me. Or rather, ahead of me.

I sat there in ICC 105 with four classes already scheduled. All I needed was one course. Seemingly, I was in the wrong room, right? Everyone ahead of me had less than four classes. That did not deter this college man, though.

Ha! I made it. Front of the line.

“Is there an opening in Art History: Renaissance to Modern?” I asked.

“No.”

“What about Shakesp-“

“No.”

“How about Finance?”

“No.”

“Well, what do you have?”

“Accounting.”

“Accounting?”

“Accounting.”

“Fine. I’ll take it.”

At this point, I felt as though I should lay some money on the table as I got up to leave. Did I just register for a class or lose a game of three-card monte to a 12-year-old in Times Square? Had I really spent two hours to pick up Accounting 001?

The Hilltop has been good so far but, nonetheless, I feel as though life at Georgetown hasn’t really started. Since I pulled my car up outside New South, life here has been a series of games. There’s the “who-do-you-know-game,” the “which-party-do-we-go-to-game” and, not to be outdone, the registration game.

Sure, I know a lot more after NSO. I can make my way around campus without asking an upperclassman where “that Reese building” is. I can log on to “Student Access +” without a technical assistant at my side. I even know that, as a freshman guy, I am viewed as the scum of the earth at every party I go to.

Still, I don’t feel like a Hoya. Instead, all of these games have contributed to a shifty feeling that tells me that I’m doing a lot of different things but really not getting much done.

Colin Murphy is a freshman in the College.

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