Checkmarq is the bane of my existence.

Tuesday, the first day of classes for my last semester of college, was more stressful than my first day of college three and a half years ago — because I had no idea which classes I was taking.

I enrolled more than a month ago. Yet  I woke up Tuesday morning with only a vague hope of my graduation status. I knew I needed five classes to graduate with a double major in journalism and political science. I also knew that somehow I had managed to mess that up.

On Monday night, I discovered that one of my scheduled classes did not count for what I needed it to. I had room in my schedule but not enough classes to fill it with, meaning I would be one class shy of graduating with my two majors.

Cue banging head against nearest wall.

Since Checkmarq is an internet server, it did little to console me. I knew I needed human help to solve my dilemma, or at least to be sympathetic when I learned my degree would be different than what I planned for.

For some reason, meeting with professors always makes me very anxious. I feel incredibly sophomoric when I request a meeting, always anticipating the absolute worst. By the time

I arrive at office hours, I have worked out a whole scenario, which usually goes like this:

Department Chair:  Hello you moronic second semester senior, how can I help you?

Me: Could you look at my schedule and make sure that I will graduate in May?

Department Chair: If you cannot figure it out yourself, then you cannot graduate, you fool!

In such fantasies, I always end up weeping.

Obviously, the real meeting went much smoother. My advisers were more than willing to meet with me to talk about options to ensure a May graduation, but I still swapped classes four times in the past three days.

My double major involves two colleges on opposite sides of campus, so my ever-helpful advisers do not know each other or the other college’s requirements. This –– combined with my complete incompetence regarding Checkmarq and the outdated class numbering system in my class bulletin –– meant my class schedule was flipping around more than the halftime show gymnasts at Monday’s Marquette basketball game.

I have been using Checkmarq for eight semesters now. I should be able to figure it out, I know. My impending graduation should not be held in the balance because I read Checkmarq incorrectly. With my ineptitude at managing my scholarly pursuits, I understand if you have no sympathy for me.

Luckily, the department chairs did have sympathy.  Apparently, this is a common issue: mandatory classes in opposite colleges with conflicting times and a lack of alternative options leave many students scrambling to meet their graduation requirements. Professors are asked to give permission numbers which means larger class sizes, and students are dropping and adding classes left and right. Syllabus week is a total mess.

Marquette’s size is beneficial in that we can have smaller classes and personal advisers. It is outstanding that Checkmarq outlines graduation requirements and that advisers have access to that. Yet the size of our university also means that only a few classes are offered every semester, and these classes have a limited number of spots.  This means that students have to be accountable for their academic planning and success.

That said, it’s great to know that when — not if — we falter, we go to a university where there’s someone to help when we ask.