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October 6, 2019

I signed up for he writing class first; I make my living writing so how disruptive could it be? then, the mold making class I’d not been able to fit into my schedule–the one I needed to take so I could get started on my new candle line–opened up at a time I could attend. I’m having a big birthday this year and have been saying, all my life, I wish I could draw, so I signed up for a life drawing class as well. my September was very busy.

as it turns out, I’m not half bad at drawing. and I caught on to plaster mold making so quickly I was making molds at home after the first of five lessons. but the writing class didn’t go so well. the first week, after saying, “great writing,” to five, in my opinion, not great essays by other students, the teacher ripped into me so hard, I actually checked the floor under my chair for blood. she told me my essay was gross, the people in the story, despicable, then went on to criticize me personally. I was shaken.

Not sure if I hated the teacher and the class because she’d torn my work to shreds, I returned for the second session where I didn’t read aloud so she didn’t have a chance to critique my work; Despite no personal attacks, I found myself disliking her and the class just as much as the previous week.

I’m going through a little cash flow crisis right now, so didn’t want to throw away the $500 I’d spend on the class. I continued to attend, each week wondering why the other students treated her like a guru when I found her and the class so ridiculous. the last night, we went around the room, each saying what we are working on and nearly every student proclaimed their deep love for the teacher and what they had learned. I felt like I had experienced a completely different class.

so, what did I learn? Writing is time consuming and the work it takes to get an essay published just isn’t worth the tiny pittance papers and magazines pay. And I *&^%^ hated my writing teacher.