erik smetana: writer (or something like that)

Class number two...

Was an interesting one to say the least. After handing back the assignments from last class, the professor in all his blue-worded glory proceeded to pick apart each of our papers, commenting on what worked, what didn't and where we could improve. While this might sound horrifying, it was in reality unbelievably helpful.

His biggest point (that he was making to the class in general) was that we were using the wrong words. Too many adjectives, too strong of words, our papers were littered with sentence stopping consonants, etc.

A classroom of heads bobbed in acknowledgment until he asked if anyone had their paper on jump drive -- he wanted to do some further dissection on the large screen fronting the room. Yikes!

By happenstance (or me being the only one foolish enough to admit I had an electronic copy on me), my paper was selected for group viewing. But to my relief, once the paper flashed on the wall, my professor said, "Oh, this was one of the cleanest papers of the bunch."

My paper was quickly clicked away and I'm pretty certain I heard a choir of angels singing, "Hallelujah!"

Of course later on I was chastised for not thinking like a writer, when after being put on the spot, I couldn't think of a good topic for an upcoming assignment. My inability to think on the fly led to an impromptu field trip outside (something I have to think he had planned all along), where we watched and observed the goings on of the campus (which was unusually busy for a Thursday night).

We stared at stars and speeding cars (swerving to avoid jogging students). We discussed that there were only three types of story: Good vs. Evil, The Journey and Boy Meets Girl. The professor told us we needed to learn to observe, to research, to be informed about what we are writing whether it be non-fiction or fiction. We were straddling the line between formal lecture and informal mentoring.

It was then that an exchange student approached us and asked what we were looking at.

"Just looking." We said.

"Oh, I thought maybe you saw a UFO." She said and then walked away.

My professor turned his gaze from the sky back to the class and said, "Now that right there is a story. Alright, let's get back to that coffin of a classroom."

So, I'm going to call it a 75/25 night. A lot of things learned, opinions shared, egos poked at, zero alien spottings -- honestly, it was the most fun I've had in a classroom (or outside it as the case may be) in ages.