School Daze for Me Too

There was a light cool wind that picked up the dried leaves and twirled them tornado-fashion along the wall of the quad.  I had been on the community college campus a few times for school events.  It was compact and efficient; a modern center of learning. Ivy would die here from lack of attention as students of all ages crossed in uncertain paths from parking lots to classrooms.  I called the office yesterday and asked for the location of Lucy’s writing class. Luckily, the class was held early in the day and I could rationalize a visit on my way to the grocery store.  I felt like a self conscious imposter student walking through the maze of corridors.  I passed an open-doored classroom and glimpsed Lucy sitting at a giant wooden desk.  I tapped on the doorjamb and entered when Lucy smiled with surprise at me.  After confirming that I wasn’t interrupting, Lucy invited me to sit and I slid into a desk in front.  Strange feeling sitting in a student desk again and a little reminder that I might be out of place.

I let Lucy know that Mr. Todd had told me about her teaching position and how I found her class.  She was impressed with my sleuthing but still a little puzzled about why I was sitting in a student’s desk in front of her.  I hesitated for a moment and then  asked her about the class. Lucy was noticeably pleased to discuss the writing class and the work of her students.  She was proud of their writing assignments and gave an example of one student who had already sold an article to a local magazine.

Lucy apologized for talking so much and asked about my interest.  There was a long pause while I contemplated my response. I  probably should have thought this part through. I was afraid that Lucy would laugh at me, think me crazy, pity me or even think I might not be capable of writing.  And the imposter in me was afraid of those things too.  I gulped and told Lucy that I might be interested in taking a class.  The words came bolting out of my mouth like one big long word.  Somehow, Lucy must have understood me because she clapped her hands to her face.  Oh god, she must think I am nuts.  But she lowered her hands and smiled.  Lucy told me that was a great idea.  She knew I loved books and reading.  She asked me if I had ever written anything and I told her that I had only started writing down my thoughts a couple of months ago.  She seemed relieved and told me that she lived in fear of students who brought whole written binders to class that weren’t really very good because they hadn’t learned anything about writing before they presumed they were writers.  How ironic; my lack of writing was good.

Since the term had already started, Lucy suggested that I register for the next term, get the textbook and start getting ahead that way.  I might enjoy being prepared ahead of time; it actually suited my personality better.  I thanked Lucy and she told me how much she looked forward to seeing me in class. Now, the hard work was up to me.  Somehow I had to break it to Steve.  I should have asked about homework.  How much could there be?  It’s just a writing class.

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