On my first day of University Writing this semester, I never really gave much thought to punctuality. Class started at 9:10 a.m. and that is when I left my dorm room, barely managing to juggle my binder, I.D. card (why didn’t I put this in my pocket?), and pen as I ran from Carman to Pupin. When I finally rolled into class at 9:17 a.m. I was greeted by fourteen pairs of eyes that screamed “who do you think you are?” instead of “welcome, let me lead you to your table. Can I get you started on wines?”
