The Hardest Part

Woke up, got out of bed
Dragged a comb across my head
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup
And looking up, I noticed I was late

--A Day In The Life--The Beatles

It seems to me, that the only reason I ever get out of bed is to go to class. Take today for instance. It was a Saturday, and I woke up around 9:30. I really did not want to get up this early so I forced myself to fall back asleep. I really hate getting up early, especially when there is no particular reason for it.

During the week, there is always a reason to get up early. I call this reason "Class." It is the actual physical state of being in class, not some sort of high-brow I dress better than you type of class. In the latter sense, I have no class. But in the former state, I am all about class.

The Prof. that lectures is the same one that writes the final exam. Therefore, he or she will only lecture about things that it deems relevant. Hence, going to class gives you an insight into what the teacher thinks. Or, more importantly, the arguments that the Prof. respects and those the Prof. does not respect. There are valuable things to learn by going to class. But that is not the reason that I go.

I try not to miss any classes. I want my butt in the seat. One class I missed earlier this semester, I got some feedback on. The folks I talked to said the Prof. talked for most of the fifty minutes on some obscure hypothetical, that in their opinion, was highly irrelevant. The basic concept of the hypo, which they divulged to me, seemed relatively simple, but it still would have been nice to make that class. Who knows what the exam will entail? That lecture may be the smoking gun.

But even though I take lots of notes during class, that is not why I go. I go to class because it is a break. The only time you do not have to worry about anything, is when you are in class.

For me, the majority of the learning is done outside of class. I actually do the homework, and attempt to understand it in Law School. In Undergrad, I never read shit. I suppose that Socrates would be proud of me. I learn the material, and use class to fill in the gaps. That is why when I get called on in class, I can answer the questions, unlike some people, who it is evident only skimmed the material. I rely on myself much more than I rely on the Prof's (or even worse, a students) presentation of the material.

So then why do I hate skipping classes? Because class is a break. What does that mean you must be wondering. It means that I use class to answer e-mails, read my favorite webpages, and dick around. Because there is nothing that I have to get done. I am in class, I have fulfilled my obligation for this fifty minutes of my life, and it is a good chance to do the things I never seem to have time for.

I spend my Saturdays in bed, mostly catching up on sleep (seeing as how I average five hours a night during the week), and I love it. Because it is the weekend. And there is no obligation.

The sad thing is, I pretty much do on Saturday what I do in class. Just sit there and dick around, until someone says something particularly enlightening, and I jot it down in my notes.