I couldn't remember the professor's name so I checked out my class schedule during lunch. Noted: class starts at 5:15. I then peeked at her reviews on ratemyprofessor.com (a website with which a grain of salt should always be taken) and was pleased with her raves. Yay! I was excited to meet her and get going with my degree work!
My husband drove me to class. I'm spoiled, yes I am, but I didn't want to have to fight with parking (especially since I don't have my parking decal yet) and worry with traffic and finding my way around the massive campus. He dropped me off behind the building at 4:50 and it was then I realized I didn't know where my class was. I knew which building (duhh, the College of English's building), but not which room. I was confident I would find someone who would direct me. Aww, I'm so cute and naive in this portion of the story!
I found my way into the ginormous building. There were children everywhere. By children I mean kids, from freshman to seniors, milling around, lounging in front of closed classrooms, sitting on the wide windowsills. And everybody was on their phone. I of course have a cheap husband who won't pay for a data plan for my phone. I called said cheap husband and asked him to log into my class schedule with his data plan and check which room I needed to be in. He called me back a minute later (5:01)--he could not navigate the university's website via his phone. By this time I had approached a friendly-looking young girl and she couldn't help me either, other than directing me to the advisors' offices to have them look up my schedule. I made my way to the second floor and walked around. Again, I approached a friendly-looking, bookish young man wearing glasses and told him I didn't know where my class (CRW 3110) was and he directed me to the third floor. I had to tell him my class was 3110, not my room number. He shrugged and I left him to find an office with a computer or an advisor or something more helpful.
At 5:05, I stumbled into a writing lab with online computers! I could have wept! The cute, shaggy-headed, bearded hipster who greeted me laughed as I told him my tale. He explained away my stupidity by saying, "It's the first week of class, no big deal." I logged on, got my schedule and room number (114!) and made my way back downstairs.
I promptly found the room. It was 5:09. Plenty of time! There was a moment of confusion as there were two rooms, back to back, and I saw only one sign in between them that said 114. But there is a wall separating them, I thought they can't be the same room; and then the door covering up the second room's sign was moved. Ah. Taking a deep breath, I attempted to open the door. And it was locked.
Rather than making an ass of myself in front of all the children already seated at their chosen desks, I looked wildly around for another door to the room that wasn't locked. Just then, a woman--yay, my age!--materialized next to me. Before I could say "It's locked!" she pushed open the door, saying, "The doors here just push open--most of them in the building do." I followed her inside and she went to the front of her room and put her things down. On the teacher's desk.
Yes, she is my professor.
At least I wasn't late to class (it was only 5:12)!
I quietly took a seat in the far right corner, near a handy windowsill on which to place my very heavy bag o'books and my illegal water (No Food or Drinks in Classrooms! all the signs said). She introduced herself as I looked around the class. Just as I had suspected--all children. All 20, or maybe 21. I sighed and tried to relax and concentrate on what the professor was saying. She was going to take roll. Ack! Roll! People would know my name!
Class ended up being great. I consider myself to be a pretty good judge of character, and I think L is going to be a great professor. I look forward to learning a lot and working hard for that knowledge. I am so excited!
