W131.
8:15 am.
Monday.
Last week of August.
2006.
It wasn’t too cold but the sprinkling rain made it feel that way – looked like it might start raining harder too.
I hated writing, and I was scared shaky about it. The rain didn’t help my confidence.
I shivered on the left side of the classroom, two chairs back. Part of the class activities for that first day included meeting someone nearby and introducing the new friend to the class. That didn’t help my shivering.
I met Adam. I still remember his name, although I only ran into him a couple more times in my life. He played guitar – that was cool.
Later, I would learn that Sheryl Klein sat a couple chairs behind me that first day too.
The professor wore almost knee high boots, loved old English poetry, and used the word “herculean.” Her red hair stood out, but she seemed nice enough. I wasn’t buying it though.
Toward the end, she handed out paper to write down our names, majors, interests, and how much experience we’d had writing… and how we felt about it.
My name was Marshall Jones. I was undecided. I played guitar and drums. I didn’t have much experience writing. And I felt like that class was going to kill my head off.
I think I even apologized right there on paper before I’d even written anything.
I did not like my first class, but I learned a lot from it. I learned to face my fears… because you never know when you’ll end up loving them. Like I do with writing now.
But whatever – I dropped the class later that day. :>)
