I’m going to just throw this out there: I don’t like going to class anymore.

That may be a slightly idiotic statement. Who does? I’ve never liked going to class, and in this, my final year as a student, there’s really no difference.

But I don’t think I ever dreaded it this much. Never have I wanted to do so many other things.

I find myself walking to classes just praying that something will take me far away from campus. Anything. Any excuse. Perhaps a strong gust of wind. Maybe an earthquake that ruins the facilities but hurts no one.

What kills me the most are these marathon classes that the university stages, those three-hour and full-day classes. There’s a serious reason the windows in Newhouse II aren’t adjustable. We’d need a clean-up crew on Waverly.

Here’s how bad it’s gotten. I’m to the point where I’ve run out of things to doodle during class. Granted, I can always do the time-consuming, fancy calligraphy of my name. But inevitably, that leads me to being upset that I can’t draw a flower as neatly as the girl next to me can.

My doodling career officially began during my senior year of high school. I actually put work in. Most of your average doodlers simply go into class and let the wide-open pen and page do the work. No, not me. I went home and printed out pictures of logos and cartoon characters that I wanted to draw. And for weeks, I just came to class and drew. Once, I even asked my teacher if I could borrow some markers to color them in.

At this point, I’ve got nothing left. I resort to those stupid arrow drawings, or the even more ridiculous shape configurations that never look anything other than hideous.

What I might hate even more than class are those extracurricular events professors ‘suggest’ you attend. The sort of suggestion that might come from a girlfriend in reference to where to go to eat or what movie ‘we’ should go and see (and put a down payment on a house to enjoy). That sort of ‘suggestion.’

I was at one of these events recently, just absolutely praying I’d Alex Mack into the floor in the back of the auditorium. During one moment of consciousness, I heard the speaker mention something about a near-death experience she had at one point. At the time, I was thinking, ‘I could use something like that right now.’

And, is there anything worse than those five to 10 minutes when you first wake up for your 8:30 a.m. class? Why classes even start before 10:00 a.m. is beyond my comprehension. I believe that science would show brains don’t begin to function until at least 10:15. Any time before that, I want to smash my alarm clock into a billion pieces every morning. I’m confident that I could be convinced to do anything during those few minutes if it meant I’d get out of going to class. Grand larceny? Yeah, sure, just let me sleep.

Don’t get me wrong, there are tons of classes at this school that I’d love to take, if all I had to do was sit and listen. But I can’t be expected to actually do the reading. Or write papers. Or be informed or educated at all.

‘Well, Scott, what would you rather be doing?’

It’s funny you ask that. I can’t think of anything decisively, oddly enough. I’d imagine I’d be comfortable playing more ‘Donkey Kong,’ wagering on ‘Legends of the Hidden Temple’ and drinking ginger ale as though my life depended on it.

A couple of other things I’d like to do: contemplate how long I can go without doing a laundry load of socks before someone comments on the disappearance of sneakers from my wardrobe, and study Marshall Square Mall with the intent of once and for all figuring out what the hell that store is opposite Syrajuice.

But when the day comes to a close, I’m all talk. It doesn’t really matter what I say. I still go to class. Part of me still likes it (though I do hate that part), and that’s all there is to say about it.

As Nas once said, ‘Life’s a b*tch, but God forbid the b*tch divorce me.’

Scott Spinelli’s column appears on Thursdays and is usually written to the sounds of Billy Joel and the warmth of a Glade scented candle.

Published on October 10, 2007 at 12:00 pm