I’m sitting in my dorm’s laundry room, waiting as my clothes wash up. It’s second semester and yet I’ve never done laundry at school, partly because I live close enough to home that I would just take it and wash it for free every two or so weeks, and partly because I was nervous that I wouldn’t know how to do it on my own anyway. As it turns out, I’ve simply been silly. This isn’t hard to do at all. One point for the pint-sized, developing adult right here.
Now, onto a story that has nothing to do with spin cycles: I’ve decided to enroll in summer school. It certainly feels strange; as a kid, summer school always had a negative connotation. It was the place where all the remedial kids went to try and catch up on their failed studies so as to avoid repeating the second grade again. Now, of course, I realize that isn’t necessarily the case; summer school can be, and is, a good thing, regardless of the reason why you’re there.
If I want to get through my long haul of pursuing a bachelor’s degree and then tacking on three years of law school, the best way to go about doing this is trying to knock out as many classes I can as soon as I can do them. After completing summer classes, I’ll have 51 credits under my belt, setting me just nine credits away from junior standing as a second-year student. Makes me feel good.
My courses are online courses, which is, in a sense, good, because if I were taking classroom-based courses over the summer, I’d have to find living arrangements here in town. Somehow, I doubt my parents would lease an apartment for me in a city an hour away from home. That would be miraculous. It makes me nervous, though, because I’ve never taken online classes. Will I do well? (I mean, I have to, but will it be a greater effort?) To impel myself to do well, I’ve decided that I’m going to pay for my own classes. They don’t start until July, leaving me with half of May and all of June to work hard. With what I earn–assuming I spend close to nothing–I can actually pay for my own summer schooling. One more point for the developing adult right here.
If you’ll excuse me, I have to go transfer my soaking laundry over to a drying machine… and fast, too. I see someone eyeing my washing machine already…