Walk in the Woods
Short #5: College Expectations
Over the next 20 minutes, our professor detailed what he wanted from our writing and thoughts. He started with content then went over grammar and style. A general sense of gloom settled over us as he hammered our poor effort. I felt like I was back on a high school practice field, at the receiving end of a tongue-lashing from a coach. Dr. Greene was determined and refused to settle for our lackluster effort, like any good teacher or coach.
The professor marched through the door at the rear of the classroom, up the center isle, to the lectern at front. The normally talkative man remained silent as he pulled three folders from his tote bag and placed them on the desk next to the podium. Two of the vanilla folders were jammed with our essays- the first of the semester. And, the third folder was mysteriously thin. Remaining silent, he then stood at attention and waited for the class to finish finding their seats.
Dr. Greene was a middle-aged man who had the look of a man who both loved and regretted his chosen career. His tired eyes sat beneath thinning grey hair and he wore the same navy blue cardigan everyday. He loved anthropology and teaching, but often lamented the financial rewards. And, despite the demands or lack of rewards, Dr. Greene taught with passion and empathy. These qualities made him a respectable man.
Once the class matched Dr. Greene’s silence, he launched into a speech of what he expected from a college essay. With a sly smile he began, “When I assign you an essay, I expect you to show me what your’ve learned. I expect you compare and contrast the various authors from the reading, add some your own research, and develop an argument.” Then, he plucked the thin folder from the desk and removed the short stack from within. “I’m going to pass these around. Make sure you get a copy. This is what I expect from my students.” It was biting start to this rebuke and I got more nervous when I read the title at the top of the mystery handout: HOW TO WRITE A GOOD ESSAY.
Over the next 20 minutes, our professor detailed what he wanted from our writing and thoughts. He started with content then went over grammar and style. A general sense of gloom settled over us as he hammered our poor effort. I felt like I was back on a high school practice field, at the receiving end of a tongue-lashing from a coach. And like a good coach, Dr. Greene was determined to push us and refused to settle for a lackluster effort.
He ended the speech with the specifics of how he graded every essay. He detailed what he expected from an A paper then wrote a large two on the board. “This is how many people in this class turned in an A paper,” he said, and rapt the board with his left hand for emphasis. He finished with what he expected from B and C papers. And just as he did with A papers, he wrote number beside each. The class produced four B papers and twelve C papers. Dr. Greene didn’t bother to mention the D or F papers or their numbers.
As he reached for the two fat folders, my confidence wained. I wrote my paper- on the political and social issues facing Indian farmers- the night before it was due, fueled by energy drinks and cigarettes. I spent the whole night in a computer lab on campus pulling commodity prices from online indexes, critiquing Marxist authors, and editing my supporting arguments. At 7 AM, I pulled a printed copy of my paper off the printer, stuffed it in my saddle bag and went for a nap in my truck. An hour later, I strutted into class and proudly dropped my work on Dr. Greene’s desk. Now, my bravado was gone in the face of our professor’s reprimand.
As he handed us our papers, I hoped for a C. I think we all did. My heart beat in my throat as he called my name. I saw plenty of red on the cover page and assumed the worst. Why had I waited to start writing this paper? The grade was on the final page and I paused before getting on with the dirty work. And the shockwave I felt when I saw my grade was too much to contain. “This was an excellent essay. Your argument is well stated and supported. -A.” Dr.Greene shot me a knowing glance as my eyes widened. And, I excused myself to celebrate in the hallway, out of sight from my classmates. I leapt and pumped my fists and whisper-screamed my joy. “F-CK YES!” What a crazy swing of emotion, from doom to elation. I felt like I had won the lottery.
Dr. Greene, according to his speech, I earned my A. And the triumph caused me to examine my essay writing process. I no longer tried to follow the prescribed approach and leaned into my method- with a few tweaks. In the final two years of college days, I repeated my success essay after essay in class after class. In turn, my professors loved me and often gave me preferential treatment.
Unfortunately, I didn’t let these successes bleed into other areas of my heart or life (though age and Grace would not let me forget them.) It’s a tragedy when we forget who we are and what we are capable of doing. Years later, the Lord reminded me of moments like the one I had in Dr. Greene’s Anthropology of Food class. Part of why I write is because of them.