When I think about being different, there are many things that come to mind. Curiously, many of these seem to have occurred when I participated in the National Writing Project at UNC-Charlotte back in 2003.
The morning of our first class, I recall trudging down the hallway wondering if there was anyone in class yet. Upon entering the room, I noticed that not only was everyone already in class, but they had also begun their activities for the day. There was a single chair open on the opposite side of the room, which happened to be one of the many that were organized into a circle. This was the "Sharing Circle" formation where no one can hide or shirk away from participation. I stumbled across the room with my Fila's clomping loudly with every step I took, which was no easy task since the desks were practically touching each other. The backpack that I brought was swooshing against my body and I could feel everyone's eyes scanning me up and down like groceries being rung up at the register.
There's an uneasy feeling about being the last person in the room where the crowd has been established. I have no idea, even to this day, if there was an introduction period, icebreakers, or anything else that involved talking to each other. I recall as I was sitting down being very uncomfortable with the circumstances. I could sense that everyone was forcing themselves back into their writing to purposely ignore the disruption that I had just caused. Disruption is really not the word most appropriate for this scenario though. I think Tsunami would be more representative, but only if you were to imagine the before picture being a placid lake and then Leardini - Category 5 comes ripping through everything looking like a disheveled mess.
While everyone is trying their best to ignore me, I've decided this is a perfect opportunity to size up the room. Looking around, I like the odds of the situation. There is one other guy and everyone else is female.
Days and weeks would go by and this would be a group that I'd be very familiar with. It's the type of group that you wish would go on forever, but realize it can't because at some point you'd start to argue like a family, or even worse, realize that you have real obligations outside of this classroom. I seemed to be the comedic humor for everyone. Let's just say that unspoken rule #1 was that you DID NOT want to be glue sticking your papers into your daybook past the glue-sticking time allotment.
As part of being in the class, we all had to sign up to bring breakfast. Everyone was bringing the same things - muffins, bagels, fruit, etc. I thought to myself that these were pretty crappy breakfasts. I started each morning on a normal basis with a bowl of cereal, so I decided that this would be a perfect way for the group to start their day. Seriously, what is better than being able to eat in rapid succession without even having to look down at your food. It's the perfect meal to read the newspaper with or some other brainless activity. So for my turn, I went out and bought one of those variety packs of cereal and a gallon of milk. Everyone loved it and were equally amused. That was pretty much the only morning that people in the group commented about breakfast.
One of the more memorable activities in the group was a Cubing activity that Pat taught. For this, we were told the previous day to bring in a book that we enjoyed to discuss in class. That day, the only other guy in the class, Bill, was my partner. Truth be told, I really wish I could have partnered with Bill more often. He had a sense of humor that seemed to make everything out of my mouth seem like Amateur Night at the Comedy Club. One of my favorite stories that I sometimes recount with Bill is on this day when everyone in the circle is bringing in the classics, The Wind in the Willows, Wuthering Heights, etc. My book was The Final Season, which was written by Bill Parcells to chronicle his last season coaching the NY Jets. The best part is when we had to volunteer responses, I chose to answer one and I responded, "Well, in The Final Season..." The room, which was previously partially asleep, looked up as if to say, "What did he just the name of his book was?" As the realization that I chose a sports book set in, there was an eruption of laughter. To take things to the next level, for the compare and contrast activity, I chose the book You Cannot Be Serious, by John McEnroe. For some reason, I elected to punt when the topic of sharing my response for that section came up.
Truly, the most difficult part about the class is that it began at 8 in the morning. Campus was about 45 minutes from my house, so you can do the math on when I needed to wake up in order to make it on time. This, in combination with the fact that I had so much trouble falling asleep at a decent hour, made for some interesting mornings. I have vivid recollections of coming in and discussing the TV show, ElimiDate, which typically aired around the midnight or 1 a.m. hour. There was another girl in the class who watched and we would come in the next day and talk about the most ridiculous aspects of the dates. Over time, I used this time at the beginning of class to ease into the day. I would look around with awe and take notice of everything, like a newborn baby that was just being brought into the world. It was the type of notice that you'd probably tell people in New York City or Atlanta not to look like because then you're a prime target as a tourist. Of the more curious things that interested me was the fact that several people in the class wore sandals or flip-flops, compared with those who wore shoes or sneakers that were closed toe. Back in Niagara Falls, everyone I knew wore sneakers - See the Blog about how I had to wear Buddies - and the one time that I did wear flip-flops at Jellystone Campground, I tripped and fell because the flip-flops fell apart right on a rock path. One of the rocks, which was about the size of a jagged golf ball, went right into my forehead. That was the end of my love affair with flip-flops or sandals.
So, back to my class scenario. Each day when I was free writing I decided to remark on the ratio of closed toe to open toe. The funniest thing is that word spread around the class that I was writing about this, so the last day of class, almost everyone showed up with closed toe shoes just to see if I'd notice. That day, we all had to write a final free write that we would read to the class. I read mine and the last sentence read "By the way, today's ratio was 15-3, closed to open." Everyone started laughing hysterically. The kind of hysterical laugh that fades away until you can't hear it anymore. Sometimes I can still hear the laughter...
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