Members of the DN staff provide advice on choosing classes

Chance "Let me Alone" Solem-Pfeifer

Your lips part. You're posing a question – to me, it seems. You are looking at me, after all. Fine.

What classes are you taking next semester, man?

That's it, eh? Any other trifling visions of the future you'd like me to predict for you? There will be sitting assuredly. There will be talking, and if mercy worms its way into fate's good graces in even the slightest sense, there will be video days. And if that video should happen to be "Glory," then all the better. Nothing plucks fruitlessly at the cavernous expanses where my feelings used to dwell, like watching a greasy Cary Elwes stumble around serving up racial epithets and calling it higher-level education.

But here's what the process will look like. I'll hop on MyRed (which I can only assume refers to the copious and personal debt I'll take on from paying tuition) 10 minutes before I'm set to register and avoid anything that meets on Fridays. Friday is "me time." Come to think of it, so are Wednesdays and Mondays.

How many hours, you ask? I've never really understood the concept of being a full-time student either. If simply breathing in various rooms 12 hours a week makes me a student, then just remind me about the breathing part and let's get this over with.

As for the academic aspect, we're all majoring in futility with a minor in feigned attention.

No matter what your HIST 201 professor tells you, you can essentially take his class on Wikipedia. Why does he attempt to adamantly refute this notion? Because if you can glean accurate information on Bacon's Rebellion with a solitary mouse click, maybe he's tending bar somewhere. Maybe he's working as a peasant farmer somewhere. Oh, the humanity.

Now if the world was more just, he'd spend time gathering better information on Bacon's Rebellion and just why all those indentured servants were so ruffled about working for minimal compensation. But, no, he spends the time telling you Wikipedia is worthless. They will all tell you that.

But this is 201, you're talking about, guy!

Are you yelling at me? It seems like you're yelling.

Envision this for me. It's the future and things are pretty much the same as they've ever been. Across the restaurant table from you is your date. He or she is marginally good looking and that light of immature hope still twinkles in their eyes. You share a silent chuckle with death's impending arrival.

"What classes are you taking next semester?"

You can't imagine a less interesting question. You rise from your chair and laugh in the waitress' face in repayment for her charade of pleasance. Perhaps she would like to discuss classes with your date. You see a cat get hit by a car on your walk home. And you feel ... nothing.

People are always advocating for better time management, efficiency, planning ahead, sucking the marrow out of life. I'm advocating that you not freak out. Your forthcoming semester will be a crapshoot, much like everything you've ever experienced. One instructor will engage you. One will keep you awake. One will fail to do both and one more still, will be so forgettable, you'll struggle to recollect his/her name eight weeks into the semester. This will be awkward in attempting to add salutations to your illness-faking emails.

"Hello, Professor Pawn (because aren't we all),

This life has defeated me. I find solace now only in slumber. Send me the notes from Wednesday."

Chance Solem-Pfeifer is a junior English major. Reach him at chancesolem-pfeifer@dailynebraskan.com

Katie "Do The Right Thing" Nelson

So you're looking to find the right classes. Well, you've come to the right place – class searching is one of my hobbies, along with practicing magic and trying to make friends.

I'm a political science major, which has to be the hardest major on campus, especially since I take at least 18 hours every semester. Aside from my time-intensive major, I also fight for the good of the student body in unknown organizations, like Residence Hall Association.

As you can tell, when it's time for me to register classes, I have to do so in a way that will balance my hectic schedule. Thank God I don't have to worry about a social life – student government meetings are like middle-of-the-week weekends.

I usually try to take only the most challenging classes in order to best display my superior intellect. I haven't attended intensive therapy since last semester's calculus class, so I think I'll take organic chemistry for my last science. Maybe I'll just start studying at the University Health Center so they can immediately care for me when my muscles lock up from stress.

The first thing to know is it's absolutely imperative that you memorize the 2012 class schedule for the university – you never know when your registration hour is going to come.

Aside from the 18 hours I take, I also like to have at least another 18 hours of generally useless elective classes planned out just in case I may need to take one, like underwater basket weaving or matrix theory.

And although the classes may be tough, they can be much better if you take them with the right professor. Yes, I realize there are endless professors. I also realize that half the time you're signing up for classes where your teacher is named "staff."

What does that even mean? Are we even talking about a person here? I had that infection once.

Remember at New Student Enrollment when they told you to introduce yourself to your teachers after your first class with them? That will not be enough. You must insist that you also be introduced to their spouse, children and any extraneous pets they have.

And why stop there? Learn their workout schedule, favorite color, address – the possibilities are endless. You may be surprised by how many things you end up having in common.

You can also get to know your professors over dinner. And by that, I mean showing up at their house unannounced during the dinner hour.

Nothing starts a better dinner-time conversation than your professor saying, "How did you get my address?"

This advice might earn you nicknames such as, "creepy" or "aggressive," but don't worry – those are really just compliments in disguise. The creepiest and most aggressive people are always the most successful. Just look at Herman Cain's campaign manager.

The day has finally arrived – it's time to sit down and register for classes. Don't hurry through the registration process – revel in it! In fact, I would use class registration as a first date. Picture this: you're with the person who may or may not be the one.

You're staring deep into each other's eyes and then someone presses that "proceed to step two of three button."

If that was fun, just wait for "step three."

If you're like me and have no one interested in you, you could wallow in your grief with your closest girlfriends. Make it a girl's night in! You know, a paint-your-toenails-wax-your-unibrow-and-register-for-classes kind of a night.

Hell, turn it into a sleepover if your registration opens at 3 a.m!

I would do that if I had friends.

So, go now, young informed one, and register.

Katie Nelson is a sophomore news-ed major. Reach her at katienelson@dailynebraskan.com.

Tyler "I'm Just Better Than You" Keown

Early November. Leaves cover the ground, football ramps up. Students throw half-zipped duffel bags full of beer-stained sweatshirts and broken dreams into the back of the family SUV as parents consider selling their kids' organs to recoup tuition costs.

Not you, though. You've found a way to stay in college, despite your mother repeatedly telling you, "It's OK, college isn't for some people. You know, Rush Limbaugh didn't go to college, Tyler, and he makes millions."

Now you're handed the task of picking your next classes, which isn't as daunting (or as fun) as some people make it out to be.

When looking at potential classes, remember the golden rule: interest over relevance. As a broadcast major, I could probably benefit from taking Contemporary Math for Journalists (MATH 203J), but learning in Sociology of Deviant Behavior (CRIM 413) why crazy people are crazy sounds like it was designed for cool guys like me.

Picture yourself – alone at a bar, staring pensively into your drink when you feel a tender brush across the back of your neck.

You turn and see her: long black dress, porcelain skin, dark eyes and curves you'd kill for. She gently places a hand on the side of your neck and leans in close. Her whisper, thick with the promise of heaven, fills your ear.

"What did you take on Thursdays your sophomore year?"

Having dealt with this situation more than once, the last thing she wants to hear about is Intro to Anthropology (ANTH 110).

Interest over relevance: learn it, live it and love it.

After you find classes you think you'll be able to deal with, ask around to find out whether they have attendance policies. If it's a 100-level class and it does, there's a healthy chance the class is laughably easy and only requires physical attendance, not mental. However, it's a serious red flag if the class is 200-level or above. Chances are, attendance is required because if you miss class, you have no chance of passing. These classes are designed for kids who can name all 11 Doctor Who regenerations and have diseases in their mucuses (or wherever people who constantly attend class have diseases).

Another benefit of being able to skip a class penalty-free is the sense of self-reliance you'll receive. It's one thing to have a professor explain to you how dirt becomes mud, but the real learning happens on the eve of a test you've not studied for in a class you've barely attended. The panic of trying to find information on Blackboard, halfheartedly doing review sheets and making irrational promises to a higher power is something you'll be able to use to put your grandchildren in perspective whenever they complain about stupid grandchildren things.

Another factor is the actual time of the class. Anything before 11 a.m. is for sadists and kids who were homeschooled until college and got used to being in bed by eight. Taking a morning class is just paying for the chance to be tired all day.

Picking classes is a quick but important part of college. No one can give you a perfect list of classes, not even your adviser (he doesn't know your life; he hasn't seen what you've seen). But as long as you keep a level head and heed the tips I've given, don't be too surprised to find yourself in a class or two next semester.

Tyler Keown is a sophomore English major. Reach him at tylerkeown@dailynebraskan.com.