Back to School

I have a new roommate and a new dorm this year. My roommate is a pretty good guy. He's an English major. His friends are cool. They seem sorta sporty--not football sporty, more like ultimate frisbee sporty, and not the kind to be really serious about it. They seem to be very relaxed, out/easygoing people. Kathleen, whom I know mainly as Sam's friend, lives on my floor and is also in Experimental Psych with me. Since I know her better than anyone else in those two places, I've begun to think of her as my friend, too.

I've been here since Sunday night, but today was the first day of classes. It went pretty expectedly at first. I got up early enough to shower and eat breakfast, which is very unusual for me, although I hope it won't continue to be. Discrete math seems like it will be easier than I had expected, but this may be because the teacher was trying to make it seem that way for all those students who took it because they were afraid of calculous.

I walked into Experimental Psych to see the same teacher as I'd had in another psych class, which was momentarily surprising, because somehow I didn't realize that earlier, or if I had, I'd forgotten. I looked around until I saw Kathleen, who greeted me smiling. I was about to go sit by her when the teacher took me outside to speak with me. She told me that based on my performance in her class a year ago that I wouldn't be able to handle this class and that I should leave. When she saw how upset I was she told me that she didn't mean that I shouldn't ever take the class, just that I should take it later. That didn't help much as I was still very upset, but somehow I managed a smile to appease her. By the time I got back inside, the seat next to Kathleen was already taken.

I felt ashamed for the next couple of hours, but somehow I made it through. The class proceeded normally other than that vast disruption. Sitting through my new computer science course, Algorithms and Data Structures, made me feel better, although I missed Jim, my old teacher. After class I had a very brief lunch and went to talk with Kathleen and Kirsten, who happened to be in her room. I told them about what happened and that I really did want to take the course, but I didn't want to prove Cathy (the psych teacher) right. They told me I could prove her wrong and that I shouldn't give up on myself like that. I was pleased, because it was what I really wanted to hear. I know that my parents would urge me not to take the class, but it would mean a lot to me to do well in it. If I have to, I can drop it later in the year without any major penalties, but I'd at least like to try. I can really do it this semester. I can prove them all wrong.