After three years of “studying” at King Faisal University, Dammam, I have given in to disappointment. I no longer expect to receive an education that is of even mediocre quality; instead I prepare myself to regurgitate useless facts — which most of the time are neither accurate nor up-to-date. Semester after semester, the situation deteriorates; and just when you think it couldn’t possibly get any worse, it does.

I have lost hope that the quality of education will ever improve. Or that the absurd rules that only we girls have to follow will be changed. I mean such rules as not being able to leave the university premises before 9 a.m. or always having to carry a permission slip with a picture of your driver and information about your car in case — God forbid — you should get into the wrong car or just want to have lunch with a girlfriend outside the university.

So when the new semester began, my only goal was to register for as many credits as possible in order to graduate as soon as possible and be free from the pointless annoyances.

As always with KFU, the process of registration was neither simple nor painless. When I picked up my timetable, I discovered that I had been registered for a mere 11 credits. I knew — from sad past experience — that I would have to grovel to “the powers that be” in order to register for more credits. I spent three days — from 7:30 a.m. to 2 p.m. — pleading with the university administration to allow me to register for more credits. In place of permission, I received rude words and inconsiderate treatment — and I was not the only one so favored.

Fortunately, over the past three years, I have become relatively immune to being treated so badly — relatively immune, you understand but certainly not totally resigned. My request was straightforward enough; I said to the woman in charge of such things, “The university is obligated to register me for up to 18 credits so that I can graduate according to its study plan.” To which she replied, “No, it is not obligated. You’re wasting my time. I have more pressing things to do.” And with that she walked off.

I felt desperate and decided to speak to my father about the difficulties with my timetable. He decided to go to the university and speak to the management (male, of course) and try to convince them that it was illogical and uncalled for for the university to force its students to study six or seven years for a BA. (If I had known that, I would have chosen to study medicine.)

My father’s efforts accomplished nothing and his reasoned logic fell on deaf ears. When I spoke to some of my fellow students, it became clear that not all of them had similar problems. It turned out that the students with Vitamin W — the infamous Saudi “wasta” or connections — were spared the whole mess.

I always knew that unless you had connections in Saudi Arabia your life would be filled with many impediments, but I had no idea that even at the university, students would be a part of the same game.

My plea to anyone reading this article who may have connections with those good people at KFU is to please put in a good word for me so that I can avoid all this mess next semester. I guess if you can’t beat them, you’d better join them!