We’ve all done it — I skipped the class I have no close friends in. The class where there is no Google slides presentation, no recorded lecture I can watch on 2x speed, just the professor ranting on with a squeaky piece of chalk that’s smaller than my pinky nail with a dream of tenure. Where to go from here, you ask? My question exactly. Not sure. But if there’s one thing I know, I am NOT going to office hours. I will avoid that fluorescent-lit confessional booth of a room until the day I die. Here is a list of things I would do before making that Faustian decision.

1. Look for the ‘60 y/o UW alum woman auditing the class for fun’s Instagram, fail to find it, then DM her daughter on Facebook Messenger Kids for the lecture notes: “Was Mommy at home from 9:55 to 10:45 yesterday, or was she at school?”, “Mommy has the notes, right?”, “Maybe look in Mommy’s desk?”, etc.
2. Hire Raven from hit TV show “That’s So Raven” to stand in the lecture hall of the class I missed and have a vision of what’s going to be on the exam: I’d sit in anxious anticipation as her eyes roll to the back of her head and everything gets blurry. “I see it,” she’d say, still in her trance, “and it’s not looking good.” Shoot.
3. Enroll in a witness protection program and start a new life as a goat farmer in the Swiss Alps: If I have no notes from Tuesday’s lecture, I simply don’t exist.
4. Commission a Renaissance-style oil painting of Mosse Humanities and stare at it until I achieve a state of religious enlightenment: That’s what happens right? “Thinking in tongues” or something?
5. Hunt down that one guy who always sits in the front row and blackmail him for the notes: I’d find his Instagram. Then his mom’s Instagram. Then I’d use generative AI to make it look like he’s chugging Svedka, no chaser. Anddd, send. Boom: notes acquired.
6. Take a lifelong vow of silence and join a remote monastery in the Himalayas: I cannot come to office hours if I cannot speak.
7. Volunteer for a one-way, experimental mission to colonize Mars: My science professor will just think I’m really applying myself to the material. Extra credit?
8. Watch hours of TikToks from 2020 about how to “shift,” then go into the body of Nancy Guthrie: Good luck trying to find me, Professor Williams. You couldn’t with the help of the entire nation.

Okay, okay — yes this all seems dramatic. I won’t start herding goats, blackmailing people or even hire ex-Disney Channel actresses. Don’t worry, I’ll take the reasonable route. I’m dropping out.