At what point do I stop being seen as the moronic college student who is only out to get drunk and party, and start being recognized for the hardworking, intelligent woman who is trying to succeed in life? I think it’s a valid question, and yet, it is one that members of the College faculty refuse to answer.
As stated by the giant signs in the cafeteria, there are 90 some odd days standing between me and graduation. I have earned 109 credits, not including this semester. I have an excellent GPA, I am a member of multiple honor societies, and I work very hard to maintain that status. However, none of this seems to matter, because I am only a college student.
This semester, I am fortunate enough to only have to take one class. This does not, however, mean that I can slack off the rest of the time because that time is fully consumed to the breaking point with the work that I do for the Beacon as well as a six credit internship I am doing at Mass MoCA. I thought this would be the easiest semester of my life, and it has quickly turned out to be one of the most stressful.
When I went to register for classes for this semester, I had already applied to and been hired for the internship. However, since it is not technically a class, I couldn’t register it with the rest of my schedule. I had my paperwork already filled out and signed by all of the right people. When I personally delivered it to Career Services before the winter break, I thought I would be all set. I thought wrong.
I received a call last week from the Bursar’s Office informing me that I was only taking nine credits this semester, and that would not be enough to fulfill the graduation requirements in time for May commencement. Alarmed and a little confused, I called back and said that I was actually taking 15 credits, and that my paperwork for my internship should be there to prove it. I was polite, pleasant, and did nothing to upset or berate any faculty member that I thought was trying to help me. However, the responses that I received from several of these so-called helpers were anything but pleasant or polite.
I was told that these individuals were doing everything for me and that, in essence, it was my fault that I was in this position. It must be my fault because the College has never made a mistake ever. They can do no wrong, so let’s blame it on the person who’s about to have a meltdown because they might not let her graduate because of two credits.
Over the past four years, I have said that I love this school. I have nothing but raving reviews for the English department, who have bent over backwards to make sure that their students are treated well and get the best education that can be offered. In my encounters with other departments, whether through Beacon articles or other activities, I have had almost nothing but pleasant greetings and experiences. I do love this college, and I do not regret coming here. But it is encounters like this, where I am treated like an ignorant twelve year-old, who’s just now learning the times tables, that makes me wonder why I even bother. What’s the point in trying to be articulate and mature if you’re only going to be seen as the opposite? My age does not give you the right to speak down to me.
I was raised with the notion that if you are nice and polite to someone, then they will reciprocate and be more inclined to help you. As much as it pains me to say it, Mom was wrong. It seems that no matter how much work I do, or how much effort I put in to being a polite and well-educated person, I will still only be seen as a young, stereotypical college co-ed, just looking for the next big party, waiting in line for a keg-stand.
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