BLOG: Courtroom technicalities overtake finals stress

Truth be told, finals are the last thing on my mind. Rather, my frustration and loathing have found a new target: the county office of my hometown.

You may remember the presidential election which recently took place. Presumably, in order to participate in this election, America’s first-time voters needed to register to cast a ballot. I was one of them. Not two months later, my parents received an envelope addressed to me from the county courthouse. Turns out, it was a survey to determine my suitability for jury duty.

Of course, there are a few problems with this situation. The first, and most obvious, is that I spend nine months out of the year 500 miles from said county courthouse. The second is that the courthouse is located in one of the more dangerous parts of my hometown. The third is that I just plain have no interest in serving on a jury any time soon, thanks.

But because my folks didn’t want an officer of the law knocking on their door, they mailed me the form.

“Don’t panic,” they said. “It isn’t a summons. Just a survey. There’s even a section to mark for students.”

Sure enough, one of the conditions of excusal from the call of duty was status as a full-time student, but there was a catch. I needed to send the county proof of enrollment, and even then I was only guaranteed that I would not be called while school was in session.

Procuring proof of enrollment is easy enough. The registrar’s office is on the second floor of the Belbas Center, a.k.a. the castle-looking building between Old Main and Danforth Chapel. All you need to do is ask the lovely desk attendant for proof of enrollment and she will print, sign and stamp the form you need. If you’re like me and don’t trust the post office to get the form to its destination in time to spare your parents a visit from the cops, there’s a fax machine just inside the doors of the library. Its instructions are so easy even a frazzled blogger can figure it out.

So, I filled out the rest of the form, faxed my proof of enrollment, and went on with my busy semester. Then, as my luck would have it, my dad checked the mail just before we left home after Thanksgiving; another envelope from the county courthouse.

To their minimal credit, the county held up their end of the bargain. I was not called for jury duty while classes were in session. Instead, I am to report to the courthouse on Dec. 18, two days after coming home for the long-anticipated break.

Merry Christmas to me.

On the bright side, my perturbation with a county which seems to have a personal vendetta against me has only reached the forefront of my mind, because I can now count the number of days left in the semester on one hand. I’d be a dirty liar if I said I wasn’t relieved. Overall, though, it’s been a good year, and I’m looking forward to what next semester holds.

Be strong these next few days, fellow scholars. You’re almost there! Assuming I’m not found in contempt of court, I’ll see you in 2013.