I realized I had been wrong as I separated the papers, ephemera, brochures, and announcements. The bulk of those old papers didn't mean a thing to me now. Which was annoying because they had been taking up space for years.
So, I tossed bags of old college assignments, elementary report cards, and the like and came to a freshman government class essay assignment. In this particular paper, I garnered an "A."
As I thought about this class and the professor, while I reread the essay, I remembered why I'd kept this paper. There was a good reason. It was an example of what to do for the rest of my life.
Here's how that freshman government class began:
This was before laptops - it was all old school so my "laptop" was a notebook and a pen. Looking around the tiny classroom, I knew it was going to be an interesting semester.
And that was putting it nicely.
The room could barely be called a room as roughly 15 desks and chairs were crammed into it, and only a portion of the room was used as a classroom. The rest was for storage. Extra chairs, tables, desks, and wastebaskets were piled to the ceiling.
It was as if this was the leftover room, and they had turned it into a classroom because they needed the room after all. We were pretty much an afterthought.
But as an undergraduate, this was a required government class. There was no way out.
I had already been to my English, math, and history classes and they were decent. So far, the college has been treating me well. Sure, I didn’t know a single soul at the school, and taking general education classes was notoriously boring (and necessary), but after meeting the professor of the government class, I changed my mind.
This was going to be a horrible semester.
He was droll and enjoyed listening to himself talk. I was positive I was going to fail the class, or at best, get a “C” out of it.
I don’t think he smiled once that first day, and as the semester progressed, I was certain I still hadn’t seen him smile. So, no laughing and no smiling was his thing. I began to wonder if I could drop the class... yet I knew I needed it.
I had to find the good in this scenario, but what was there to be grateful for?
After striking up a conversation with a girl a seat in front of me in the following weeks of class (and finding out we had a mutual friend in common - my sister!), it made for a bearable three-day-a-week class. If I had her, we could make this work. I could be grateful for her.
In between breaks, before class began, we would commiserate over the way he conducted class.
“I don’t know if he understands how bad he is,” she said in a whisper. He hadn’t walked into the classroom yet and we were discussing whether or not a laugh, grin, or even a bad joke was possible from him.
“Well, I think he does. I think it’s what he’s all about,” I said. “I’m not sure what happened to him, but life is very serious for him.”
“I don’t know,” she said, “Maybe he’ll walk in and tell us a joke today; maybe he’ll come in laughing; maybe he’ll come in with a huge ‘Good morning, class' and talk to us about something fun.”
I snorted. No way.
He walked in, opened his briefcase, said hello, and entered into his soliloquy for chapter 12 of assigned homework. He passed back papers for us to look at and rambled.
When my friend looked back at me, she rolled her eyes. "Wrong again,” was the look on her face. There would be no joke from him today.
The comical tone showing up on her face hit me the right way every day so really, all she had to do was glance at me and I wanted to burst out laughing - quite possibly with snot coming out of my nose.
Having her in that class saved me.
I had found something to be grateful for, my friend; my fellow-freshman-moaning-about-our-teacher friend. But, there was a term paper coming up. I was worried I wouldn’t meet his expectations. It wasn’t like we had to write the world’s best paper. But we did have to write something that he would approve of.
How did one do that for a professor as stringent and straight-laced as him?
I read over his syllabus for the tenth time hoping for a clue to writing a paper he approved, but there wasn’t anything else to glean.
So, I focused on being grateful for the ability to write (I was an English major, after all) and wrote the best paper he’d ever seen. I wrote from the heart, not just what he wanted to read, but what I felt - even if he hated it.
The following week, he went over each student’s paper in class. I groaned internally. There were only 12 of us in the class, so he had the time to do - and say - whatever he wanted. With each student, he briefly explained what they wrote about, and handed it back to them. I squirmed. What would he think of mine?
“Now this paper, this was interesting,” he said. “The writer took what we talked about and gave her approach which was strong and to the point. I thought this was actually a very well-written paper. Who… who wrote this?”
I must've heard him wrong. Was he talking about my paper? I raised my hand somewhat sheepishly. “Me.”
He looked surprised. I wasn’t the most talkative in this class because it bored me. He bored me. He probably assumed my writing was as church-mouse-ish as I acted. Not to mention, I spent more time trying not to laugh at my friend's face than paying attention to what he actually said.
“Well, it was a very good read," he concluded. "Well done.” And I swear I saw the smallest smile form at the corners of his mouth.
He passed the paper back to me, while my friend just looked at me with surprise. She mouthed “What?” in disbelief. I collected my thoughts and sighed in satisfaction.
He wasn’t an engaging teacher, but being grateful for what I had – my friend, and my writing - got me through it. It didn't matter that he didn't smile, make a joke, or make the class fun to be in. I passed that government class with flying colors because I focused on what did make me smile.
Do I remember anything from that class? Not really. But I do remember I aced that paper. And almost thirty years later, I still look at that paper in awe.
That “A” made my day and it reinforced my behavior that gratitude for what is good around me - even if it all looks bleak - (along with writing from the heart) is always the right thing to do.
Gratitude creates a way out of every situation. And I still hold to this conviction today.
Also, don't be an idiot like me. Don't save three decades worth of unnecessary paperwork. Save only the very important things - like that "A" paper - and get rid of everything else.
Save only the things that bring awe and happiness.
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