Bored. Bored. Bored. It saddens me that I would find myself bored to tears in a graduate level creative writing course. But this forms class just might kill me if it continues in the cold remedial fashion it had today. I did the readings, I looked at the exercises. I know my vocabulary. That’s why we read, and even take notes on our own. So we go through everything in class that I already read and understood because not everyone understood it, which is fine. But the pretension of graduate students is that they like to talk in class because they think that they have something new and important to say, when really, someone else just said that. I am all about the valid question. If you don’t understand a line or a term or a contradiction in the book, ask. Then listen to the answer and move on with your life.

Anyway, I was misled. I was informed that this class was going to be mostly a workshop course. And I was excited about that because I’m a girl who learns by doing. I expected a quick review of terms and prosody–quick being the operative word. I like a little reading to do, but assign me some writing and make half the three-hour class a workshop, or at least fun. Don’t give me quizzes. I’m not a freshman. And I don’t want to be treated like one. I hope at least some of my classmates agree.


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