George Taylor, like thousands of desperate underclassmen before him, has been through the harrowing process of registration before — and failed miserably.
Taylor, an Institute of Technology sophomore, remembered his first encounter with registration injustice as a freshman. He said he was determined to go through unscathed this quarter.
“There’s a certain amount of panic you feel when you realize it’s either going to be in horseback riding or ceramics,” Taylor said.
The memories are not pleasant and his voice wavered a bit and cracked as he described the ordeal. He vividly described himself helplessly sitting in Pioneer Hall’s computer lab on the last registration day, his eyes glazed with a mixture of gnawing fatigue and utter defeat.
But Taylor’s jaw firmed and his back straightened when he announced that this time around it would be different. Intently focused and dripping with determination, he was like a soldier preparing for battle.
With a red felt-tipped pen clutched in one hand and fresh copies of the class schedule and course guide in the other, he began the arduous task of coordinating times and classes early last Tuesday evening.
Enthusiasm abounded as he cracked the books open and perused his options.
“I figure if I’m really organized and damn lucky, I’ll be fine,” Taylor said.
Through the course of the evening his moods waxed and waned like the phases of the moon. Jubilous cries were sprinkled intermittently with muffled sobs and woeful moans.
Taylor’s roommate, Zach Portis, said he had never seen his friend take registration so seriously.
“He’s just been an animal,” Portis said as he stood outside their door. “He’s been marking off the days on the calendar for two weeks now.”
Portis, who registered the first day, said he can’t wait until Taylor is done because his intensity has placed a significant strain on their relationship.
Realizing the odds were against him and his 8 a.m., second-to-last day slot, Taylor marched to the computer lab at precisely 7:45 a.m. Wednesday and seated himself comfortably with his proposed schedule neatly printed on a slip of paper.
“I’m ready. There’s nothing more I can do, so I guess it’s in the hands of the higher-ups now,” Taylor said as his red-ink stained fingers calmly typed his first class call number.
The “higher-ups” are everyone from professors to department receptionists. Registration is a stressful time, but sometimes a little fun is irresistible.
“Sometimes we say the section is closed just to hear a little whimpering on the other end of the line,” said Sharon Lacy, a receptionist in the English department.
Taylor spent a mere 15 minutes at the computer. He was accepted into all his chosen classes save for an obscure physics class he said wasn’t a concrete part of the plan anyway.
His success transcends simple class registration and crosses into possible life-altering realms.
“I absolutely feel this could be a sign of bigger things to come,” Taylor said as he was hardily congratulated by a legion of well-wishers.