As a long-time advocate of pre-registration for classes, at the beginning of each semester I try to rebel against shopping period as much as possible. I pick out my four classes in advance, attend them, and usually find that I have picked right. Occasionally, a day or two into shopping period, I hear about another course that everyone likes and substitute it for one of my earlier choices. Long before study card day, though, I am ready for the semester, books in hand and sections finalized. I occasionally envy my peers who discover great new classes while shopping, but tell myself that this sacrifice is worth it in order to eliminate the stress of indecision.

This shopping period, however, as I looked forward to my last semester at college, I was determined to actually shop. After having spent the past couple of weeks in job interviews trying to explain to potential employers just how I had ended up not taking a single English course during my time at Harvard, despite my professed love for reading and writing, I decided that the time had come to shop for some electives that would make me a more well-rounded liberal arts scholar.

With two classes already set--my last core and concentration requirements--I felt sure that I would easily be able to choose my two final courses from that list of 10 I compiled the night before.

Maybe it was because I had never truly shopped, but the first week of classes this year seemed like more of a zoo than ever before. One Sever classroom filled to capacity 10 minutes before lecture and the line of prospective students snaked down the hall. A student standing in the doorway began to shout a repetition of what the professor was saying to the students who were standing outside, so that those of us who had the privilege of being seated in the back of the classroom got to hear the class in echo form. At the same time, the crowd was so big that the A/V assistant could not get in the door, so the professor quickly replaced a lecture that was supposed to be based on slides with an inpromtu discussion of the plot summaries of all the semester's books. Not exactly a stimulating first class, nor a good way to convince students to take his course.

In another course, I filled out what I thought was a sectioning form (it was, after all, labeled "Sectioning Form") but I later learned that it was a lottery form in disguise. My plans for taking that class were suddenly in jeopardy. No matter what particular comedy befell each class on my list, all over campus the theme seemed to be shortage: of syllabi, of classroom space, of teaching fellows and of classes themselves.

Quickly, my list of 10 was whittled down to two. Ultimately, for my third elective, I chose a course in my concentration. This decision did not exactly meet my goal of making my studies more well rounded, but my concentration seemed so safe and familiar--in contrast to the shopping fray. For my fourth course I chose a Core offering--in an area I had already fulfilled. When I filed my study card, I had attended that class for approximately 20 minutes total over the course of the three lectures that had been held. The first day I was not even able to get in the door far enough to hear or see the three professors, and was only able to get a syllabus by fishing it out of the trash can outside the lecture hall after it was thrown away by a disgusted student who left 10 minutes into class. By the next lecture, they had changed the room so that all the students could fit, but I had lost my chance to hear all of three of the professors speak before study card day, since only one of them was lecturing the first full week of class. I ended up looking in old CUE guides to see the ratings for the other two for other courses they have taught. A somewhat imperfect way to choose classes, all in all.

There are certainly plenty of possible gripes to be made with class offerings this semester, not the least of which is the small number of Core classes and last minute elimination of a large number of classes. However, my complaint is on a much more fundamental level. When the enormous course catalog arrived at my house the August before my first year, I was over-whelmed. I remember wondering how I could possibly take every course that appealed to me in four short years. I never would have anticipated that in the spring of senior year, I would simply feel like I had exhausted my possibilities.

As I talked to other harried friends during that week, I realized that I was not alone in the Mad Rush for the Fourth Course. Lunch time conversation was dominated by stories from shopping, everyone hoping that someone else had unearthed the great class that they themselves were not able to find. An e-mail message even began to circulate with suggestions for ways to fill up that last place on the schedule.

It is hard to settle down to my last semester knowing that I am not really all that excited about my courses. However, I am still willing to be surprised--once sections begin to meet, and I finally make time to start reading, I may find I like the material more than I think. In the end, add/drop, though a hassle, is always an option.

At the same time, there is no reason to settle for a class that seems too big, too impersonal, or more importantly, to make a choice because one cannot find anything better. Even in senior year, we should be able to be as wonderfully overwhelmed by the number of choices as we were four years ago. We came here because we love to learn, and we should have enough great courses to choose from to be able to love what we are learning about.

Corinne E. Funk's column appears on alternate Mondays.