First Class

This afternoon I was jolted by the thought: what if I walk into class tonight and realize this was a huge mistake? That would suck.

The icebreaker for the evening was pairing off and then introducing the other person to the class, including something odd or surprising. When asked to reveal something odd or surprising about myself, there is a long list from which to choose. I have a dog who functions as caller ID, I met Adam West when I was twelve, I play the accordion (badly), I can recite the first eighteen lines of the Canterbury Tales in middle English, the first ten lines of book two of the Aeneid in Latin, and I once played in a band that opened for Frankie Goes to Hollywood. I have made drinks for B.B. King and the British Consulate, and served shrimp scampi to Jason Alexander. I have been stung by a dead bee and my grandfather imported monkeys. But tonight, when we got to the “odd or interesting thing” question, this is what popped out of my mouth:

“My little toe on my right foot can move separately from all the other toes on my right foot.”

The woman “interviewing” me got wide eyes, and smiled. “Really? Do you have a name for it?”

I hadn’t thought of that.

“Supertoe!” she said. “And you could give it a little cape.”

“Would it have an S or a T on it?” I asked. “I think a T. S is for Superman.”

She started drawing a small T – emblazoned cape on the syllabus (with a lightening bolt through it, at my suggestion). Then she said, “I love toes,” and went on to talk a bit more about toes, and then dogs, and houses.

Clearly, I was in the right room.

The class itself was a blast. There was not a lot of new information (it is the first night, after all), but even the stuff I know presented by a different person and at a different time keeps me excited about the creative process – accessing the mysterious and surprising and applying craft to make it accessible to other people, to transform it into art. The first reading was about this balance between inspiration and skill. I saw yin and yang everywhere, and the night was perfectly relevant to how I have been thinking about writing since last Spring. I am also pleased that there are non-fiction writers in the class, writers who have never tapped into the wild, crazy, subconscious level of creativity. I look forward to seeing them discover this – part of me is always a teacher.

The start of a new semester is fun, and always brings with it thoughts of how things will be at the end of the semester, namely weather and wardrobe. As I walked across campus in the dark, cold, and wind after class, I kept warm knowing that when this class ends, I will likely be wearing a sundress and sandals.