Class started on Wednesday, and I was very hopeful that everything was going to go much more smoothly than semester last. I had pre-registered successfully, scheduled my labs in a most artful of ways, and didn’t need any new textbooks. (I KNOW, RIGHT???!!!)
I even printed out my Gen Chem 104 syllabus from the course webpage, several days before it was to begin. Class started at 12pm, and the syllabus clearly stated it to be held in Room 278 of the science building.
I got there early, bringing my cup of tea. The last class, taught by a new professor, was just exiting the room when I entered. I took a seat up front, unpacked my color-coordinated folders and notebooks, and tried to look intelligent and appropriately located.
Students kept leaving, except for an older McBride student who was talking to the professor. As the room emptied, and did not begin to refill, I laughed happily to myself. What an excellent impression I was making! I was so early! So prepared! Go Molly!
It did not occur to me, until the professor took a glance at his watch, and said, “Oh geez, I’m late for my next class,”
that perhaps I had the wrong room.
As he exited, leaving me, sitting in an empty room with a bizarre grin glued to my face, I thought perhaps it would be best to run after him.
This I did, covertly, (read “like an idiot,”) skulking behind until we reached the appropriate room.
The syllabus, then handed out in class, had been changed. Obviously.
The following day, I went to office hours to introduce myself to said chem professor. After explaining my situation and my fears for the approaching semester, he nodded in a friendly way and smiled.
“Were you the student who was sitting in 278?”
Yeah, that would be me.
He tilted his head, as though to say,
Yes, you are going to need an extraordinary amount of help.