Girls' voices crack, too.

I'm awkward. Ask anyone, and they'll tell you. The more polite people will call it "quirky." Thank God for those people... The truth is, I'm thankful for the awkward episode that is my life. It keeps things quite interesting. For instance, my first day of classes was extremely fun.

I only have Tuesday/Thursday classes, so, because the first day of classes at Lee was Wednesday, my first day was a day after everyone else's. In anticipation of forgetting my classes and room numbers, I jotted down the information for each of my classes on one piece of notebook paper and stuffed it into my pocket before heading to my first class. When I got to the building of my first class, I took out the paper and looked at it quickly, putting it back in my jacket before walking into the building. I obviously didn't want to be that kid, the one who has their face glued to their schedule. I'm officially a Sophomore, I thought. I am better than that now. Sadly, I was wrong.

I'm not exactly sure how the thing that took place next happened. Somehow, in the middle of looking for my classroom, my brain magically switched the room numbers. Instead of looking for room 306, I began to look for room 304. I'm pretty sure my brain wanted to prove to me that even Sophomores have to look at their schedule from time to time. After wandering aimlessly around the building for a few minutes, I decided to stop and ask some guy who looked just as lost I was. He wandered around for a few more minutes before directing me down the hall. I gave him a chipper, but still dignified, "Thank you," before heading to the classroom...the wrong classroom, mind you.

I walked into the room with a minute or two to spare and felt a little uneasy. The professor looked vaguely familiar, and I immediately thought he wasn't the professor listed on my schedule, that thing I refused to look at. I took a seat in the front row (The FRONT, you guys. Could I be any more conspicuous?), and placed all my stuff down before standing up to get a syllabus from his desk at the front of the room. I carried the syllabus all the way back to my desk and sat down. It was then that I read the class name. Needless to say, I was in the wrong classroom. I stood straight up, syllabus still in hand, and walked out of the room. I still feel somewhat bad for stealing the man's syllabus.

The awkward didn't end there. When I was finally seated in the correct classroom, after consulting the nifty little not-schedule in my pocket, the professor asked us all to introduce ourselves. If you are anything like me, hearing those words immediately induces a nervous sweat. I have this completely ridiculous fear of my voice cracking in the middle of roll call. It's silly, but it is what it is. I was one of the last ones to introduce myself, and I had been prepping myself the entire time. When it got to me, I said my name, except it didn't come out! I got all the way to "Williamson" before there was any sound at all!

Don't worry, though. I learned my lesson from all this. First, it's better to look like a silly Freshman with a schedule in hand than to go to the wrong classes. Second, I will never, ever make fun of pubescent teenage boys again. Voice-cracking is a real threat, people.