Day 5: Syllabus Overload

Today, every lecturer seemed to be in a competition to outdo one another with the sheer number of assignments, readings, and group projects they could cram into a semester.

The day started with Business Ethics. Dr. Aziz, a towering man with an intimidating presence, strode into the lecture hall with a stack of papers.

“Good morning,” he began, his voice deep and commanding. “This course will not only test your knowledge but your moral compass.”

I gulped. That didn’t sound promising.

He handed out the syllabus—a ten-page document that read more like a corporate compliance manual. Weekly reflections, three case studies, a midterm essay, and a group presentation on an ethical dilemma in business.

As he walked us through each assignment, I glanced around the room. Some students were furiously taking notes; others stared blankly, likely calculating what they’d need to survive this semester.

**********

Next was Marketing Strategies, where Ms. Clara, an energetic woman with a love for visual aids, bombarded us with slides detailing her course plan.

“This class will involve hands-on learning,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “You’ll create a marketing campaign from scratch!”

That sounded fun until she explained the workload: market research, branding, budgeting, ad mockups, and a final pitch to a panel of judges.

**********

The afternoon brought Managerial Accounting with Mr. Chua. Now, I don’t hate numbers, but the way he droned on about balance sheets and cost analyses made me question my life choices.

“This course is rigorous,” he announced, as if we didn’t already know. “Be prepared for weekly quizzes and problem sets, a midterm exam, and a comprehensive final.”

He passed around the syllabus, and I nearly groaned aloud when I saw the project section: analysing a company’s financial performance and presenting our findings.

**********

By the end of the day, I was slumped in the cafeteria with Faisal and Sarah, my syllabus stack in front of me.

“Is it just me, or do they think we don’t have lives outside of class?” I asked, flipping through the pages of Managerial Accounting.

Sarah snorted. “You’re just realising this now? They want us to live, breathe, and dream spreadsheets.”

“I can’t even dream spreadsheets,” Faisal said, dramatically putting his head on the table. “Numbers give me nightmares.”

“Maybe you should consider tutoring,” Sarah quipped, her sarcasm razor-sharp.

“Don’t give him ideas,” I said, shaking my head.

**********

Back at the dorm, I spread out the syllabi on my desk, trying to make sense of it all. Weekly reflections for Business Ethics. Surveys for Marketing Strategies. Quizzes and problem sets for Managerial Accounting. And let’s not forget the group projects from Principles of Management.

“Why do we do this to ourselves?” I muttered.

Faisal popped his head into the room. “Because we’re future corporate overlords, obviously.”

“Speak for yourself,” I replied, chucking a pen at him.

**********

Despite the chaos, a small part of me felt a strange excitement. Sure, the workload was overwhelming, but it was also a chance to learn, to push myself, and—dare I say it—to grow.

But still, we were only five days in.

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Lesson of the day: College syllabi are the academic equivalent of a to-do list written by someone who hates free time.