Um… Like, ouch?
♫ Death Cab For Cutie – We Looked Like Giants
Drinking: chocolate milk (straight from the jug)
So, I might be wrong but I think I got burned- not once, but twice– today. By my instructor.
For the first semester, we had Instructor A, a soft-spoken teddy bear; sensitive with his criticism and patient with his pupils. I became very fond of Instructor A and his quiet voice and his sweetly awkward puns.
Now the second semester has begun and now we have actual classes with Instructor B (who had recently been busy with the 2nd-year Journalism students). We still have Instructor A for Politics and general news writing but we have Instructor B for Law, Math and other writing stuff. Compared to Instructor A‘s teddy bear personality, Personality B is a cactus. That’s the best metaphor I can come up with to describe him. He loves to talk, he’s a smartass and his writing is painfully clever. And, as much as I hate to say it, he’s brilliant. And he knows it. (Not to take anything away from Instructor A by any means. He’s brilliant, too, but in a much less obvious way. Instructor B just seems to know everything about everything.) Plus, he tosses music/movie/general pop culture references into his lectures that make everything much more bearable and, even, interesting.
But today, I got burned. Twice. In the span of about five minutes. And Jenn and Jaclyn were there to see it, making it worse for me.
“The only thing more important than your story is your reader,” said Instructor B.”‘Cause that’s who you’re writing for. If you’re not writing for anyone else, you’re writing about yourself and nobody wants to read that. Keep a diary or start a blog that nobody will read.”
Jenn snickered. I glared at her.
“My blog is not just a personal blog,” I hissed quietly.
Instructor B noticed this but went on… only to mention scrapbooking and how “self-involved” it is. Jenn was giggling and Jaclyn had her hand clamped over her mouth, stopping herself from laughing out loud.
“I take it I just offended every blogger and scrapbooker in the class,” Instructor B said.
Yeah. All of us. Me, me and me. So, thanks for that, Mr. Instructor B. Even though you asked politely, I will not be sending you any cash when I write a bestselling book.