First day of class

If you have read my earlier posts, you may have read that I had signed up for a writing class.  Tonight was the first class session.

To fully understand my feelings, you also have to recall that I signed up for this class in an almost direct response to my sister’s death in February.  Writing is something that I have always been told that I do well.  My sister encouraged me to write.  She saw it as a dream of mine to write a book. So, I signed up for the class.

It is taught by a writer at a literary center that is well known, at least in this area by people who are interested in this sort of thing.  The place is full of people who are creative in many senses of the word.  Even the guy selling coffee is a musician.  I asked.

My home is nearly a one-hour drive from the class location.  I signed up for the class at the beginning of March-nearly 2 months ago.  I have been looking forward to it ever since.

It has been on my calendar ever since I registered.  I paid a large registration fee.

Somehow or another, I wrote down the class start time as 7 pm.  In actuality, it started at 6 pm. 

I arrived an hour late.

There are approximately 20 people in this class.  I came into the room and took the first seat I saw-close to the door.  Unfortunately, the instructor told me to come up to a seat near her where she had placed a hand out. 

You may have noticed that my blog address is “always in the back row”. That is because I am very tall.  I have always had to sit or stand in the back row for almost every class, choir, theater performance, or anything else which involved shorter people ( that usually means everyone else).  I am not comfortable in a front seat.  I feel very self-conscious.  I have gotten used to sitting in the back.  I can see everyone else and they can’t see me.

Everyone else in the class had introduced themselves and “told a little about themselves”.  I had to do the same.  I did not, however, have the benefit of learning about the others in the class.  So, everyone knows me by name-that woman who was so late-and I don’t know any of them.  This is not an auspicious beginning to my dream of a writing class.

Has anyone reading this taken a writing class?   Is it common that there are some pretty self-important personalities in such a class?  An odd-looking person who seems like a throw back to the seventies?  One person who talks more than all of the others combined?  These are the personalities that I observed in my brief one-hour class experience. 

We did some reading aloud of examples of different types of writing.  I missed the writing by the class and sharing it with the class.  The students that I did hear reading aloud had some problems with some of the excerpts. I wanted to help/correct them.  The instructor seemed nice-she didn’t correct them.  She has published several books, which were conveniently displayed at the front of the room, with a discounted price list. 

I guess that I shouldn’t be too judgmental.  I have just started this. I have hoped that this would be a group of people with whom I could develop friendships and share a love of reading and writing.  We’ll see.  I am trying to keep an open mind.

In the meantime, I have homework.  Writing a memoir piece.  It seems as though I have done that before.  Almost daily. 

I’m still looking forward to the class.  I won’t be late next week.  I want this to be a good experience.

Oh, and I almost forgot……today is my oldest granddaughter’s 3rd birthday!  Happy Birthday Harps!!!!  Love you!

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