Tired. . .

So I'm sitting in class, trying not to fall asleep, when it hits me: why am I even here? I don't mean existentially; the purpose of life is one of those questions I usually ponder when I have lots of time to focus. But what is the point of spending 2/3 of my day in class, listening to a teacher lecture me on a) something I already know or b) something of no use to me once I've passed the test. There's got to be a better way to do this! For example, I already know I want to be an English professor. So what's the point of taking Chemistry or Art? None; I'm never going to need them. Instead of being able to learn something useful, I was forced to spend an entire semester in an art class, attempting to draw and sculpt. Why? Because it's required to graduate. Tell me this: how is my ability (or, realistically, inability) to draw my own shoe in any way related to my ability to write a paper? I rest my case.