The Twelve Labors of Hercules? I Am Taking Twelve Credits and It Is Hard

It is often said that success at Cornell is nothing short of a heroic feat. It takes brave, strong, and savvy students—truly exceptional students, not the ones who merely think they have those qualities and join ROTC—to navigate the university’s harrowing challenges. This semester, I have confronted the school’s mythical academic rigor head-on as I struggle to vanquish the monstrous 12-credit schedule that stands in my way.

At the onset of the semester, I was confident and exuberant, certain that any coursework thrown my way would be no match for my studious prowess. In turn, I approached school with the audacious bravado of a cocksure young man. But my hubris was nearly my downfall. 

Soon, I was barraged by terrifying beasts sprung from the depths of Hades’ realm. The endless problem set, impervious to any attempt to weaken its strength. The coding assignment that sprouted two new bugs whenever I patched one. The group project where, no matter what I did, there was always more shit to deal with. On and on they went, penance to pay for the unspeakable crime of completely forgetting about course selection.

Each task initially seemed impossible. But, in time, I have come to slay them all. I was forced to strangle the problem set with my bare hands (write it out by hand). I struck at the heart of the code (by finding a solution on StackOverflow). I cleared the shit by redirecting the one motivated student in the project group to do everything. The gods tested me, but I have emerged victorious—so far, anyway.

I am no demigod, and I have no desire to become a demistudent either (by dropping classes and going under the credit limit). My trials have been long and harrowing, the tasks normally reserved for only the noblest of prep school kids. Many times have I mulled slipping away, sacrificing my future for some temporary peace. But the draw of academic immortality—in the form of a piece of paper with some fancy typing on it—is too much to resist. I must continue to fight, to prove my mettle.

Many challenges still await. I dread the final projects, those descents into hell which only the stupid attempt and the lucky survive. But then why should I not prosper? There is little doubt about my intelligence (or lack thereof), and my luck thus far is similarly indisputable. So I shall proceed, stumbling blindly into hopeless situations and somehow emerging unscathed. If that isn’t the heroic Cornell way, I don’t know what is.

Course Roster Unveils “Father’s Disapproval” Feature That Audibly Sighs When Sociology Course Added to Scheduler

HANS BETHE HOUSE– Every semester, students use the course oster site to help them select and map out their classes in preparation for pre-enrollment. This semester, however, many students were taken aback by the introduction of a new, true-to-life, artificial intelligence father figure who loudly groaned, sighed, and grumbled every time they attempted to add a Sociology course to their schedule. 

“I wanted to add SOC4150: The Ethnography of Poverty and Inequality because it sounded interesting, and I was curious to learn more,” explained Isabel Chen, CALS ‘25. But when she tried to add it, she was caught off guard by a deep, soul-crushing exhalation of breath rattling through her AirPods, followed by a pop-up on her screen reading, “Dad suggests: CS4414: Systems Programming instead.” Chen described the headache-inducing process that followed, as she verbally explained to the computer five separate times that she actually did not have a single one of the required prerequisites for that course. Still not convinced, the AI went on to suggest she “just go drop by the professor’s office and see if he’ll make an exception.” 

Chen is not alone in her frustration with the new feature. Several students have complained that no matter how thorough their explanations, AI Dad never quite seemed to understand why they were not enrolled in the College of Engineering. “After about 45 minutes of back and forth, the sighs finally stopped, and it started quietly grumbling about medical school application deadlines instead,” reported Mark Dolan, A&S ‘23, who had never expressed interest in attending medical school even once in his life. 

The developers of the program acknowledged that it is near-impossible for students to “win” with AI Dad, as he is specifically programmed never to admit he is wrong. “The goal was to make the program as realistic as possible,” explained a course roster representative. “We hope it will better prepare students for this crucial aspect of the course selection process, as they defend their choices to ‘Real-Life Dad’.”

Canvas is considering furthering the program with its own feature that shouts, “HA! I’m paying tuition for this?!” every time a student opens up a reading about gender studies.

Student Gets The Bad TA

MARTHA VAN RENSSELAER HALL—Upon arriving to her first discussion section on Wednesday, Julie Witzeman ’20 was shocked to discover that she was placed into the section led by the bad TA.

“Apparently my TA has a reputation for responding infrequently to emails, not explaining the important points, and taking points off assignments for every minor issue,” said Witzeman, while reading the class’s RateMyProfessor. “This review just says ‘if you get the bad TA, you’re fucked.’”

During the first class section, the bad TA outlined his policies for the semester, including a no-excuses anti-electronics rule, required attendance in each section, and instructions for all students to address him as “Sir.”

“I figured there would be room in other sections considering the enrollment limit is 20 and my section only has six students, but every single one has a red dot on student center,” continued Witzeman. “The one time I saw another open up, I’m pretty sure student center crashed from a bunch of people trying to enroll in the class at once.”

Meanwhile, Witzeman’s friend in another section described his TA as “a chill grad student” who “doesn’t like to give B’s.”