Today was the first day in a long time that I dropped a class. Adding and dropping classes aren’t normally a big deal. I did adds and drops on a regular basis in college; albeit, I rarely dropped after the semester started. At about 2:40pm yesterday after already sitting in the class for 2 hours, I already knew I had to drop it. Still, I went through several different emotions as I was driving home. The feel of inadequacy hit me hardest. Am I not tough enough to continue in this class? Do I lack the intellectual capacity to continue in this class? Am I just a lazy student? I still wanted to continue and prove my imaginary doubters wrong. I can get through this. I’m not weak. The thought of continuing, however, was overbearing still. I had no excitement of enduring 4 1/2 months of these feelings. After talking over the situation with friends and family (thank you Grace, Jacob, and Doug for your advice!), I understood that, for a variety of reasons, I needed this class less than I thought I did. What’s more is that there was another class that I needed more. My new textbook is in the mail, and I will be studying with my father-in-law (yes, he’s in my program too) tomorrow night.
I’m still upset over my experience. I really was looking forward to taking this class. I put a bit of mental prep into getting ready for the semester. Dropping the course altered my study plans. I’m not going to be studying a subject I thought I would be studying since October. I’m now going to be studying a subject I wasn’t expecting study until today. What seems so small was actually pretty big. But it all worked out for the better, and I’m glad to come to this realization before it was too late. Goodbye Greek 4. Hello Hebrew Poetry.
Here’s to lemonade.
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