It's funny how three little letters (well, technically they're capitalized) can symbolize so much frustration and debt and angst and general malice toward an institution of higher education.
So here's the story: I got accepted to the Master's program at Arizona State in April after almost failing a portion of the GRE (seriously scored in the 5th percentile in the writing). Happy day, all is well. Then comes the juggernaut of bureaucracy that is our lovely maroon and gold hometown hero. Since receiving my acceptance letter the second week of April, I have been trying to find out which classes I need to take in order to graduate. Seems a simple enough request, right?
...
The graduate advisor told me to contact a list of my undergraduate professors, who should be able to help me find a suitable course of study. Great, except for the one tiny little insignificant problem that 1: they are on vacation 2: the ones that aren't on vacation are working to meet deadlines and have no time to meet with new students 3: the ones that aren't on vacation or working to meet deadlines have no money or lab space and 4: the graduate advisor either quit or got fired by the time I found out that problems 1 through 3 pretty much excluded every undergraduate professor I liked (and some I didn't).
Great. So where does that leave me? Up a creek as it were...
They finally hired a new advisor (and by "hired," I of course mean "stole from a different department") who was very helpful and gave me a piece of paper with everything I needed to know in order to find the classes I needed.
"This was just sitting on her desk, I'm not sure what it is, but it looks helpful."
My brother in law is finally graduating after almost a year and a half of needing 1 class about which ASU was being patently ridiculous. He started the "I Hate ASU" club, and as the president and founder, has granted me full card-carrying membership.
Here's to 2(+) years of ASU drudgery!
Whee.
1 comment:
AHhhh, it's not that bad:)...oh wait it is!!!
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