When I walked into Composition today, the instructor stood behind her podium at the front of the classroom. "I've only got two essays left to grade," she told us. "After I do that, I'm giving them back to you."
About ten minutes later, Mrs. D was walking around the classroom, setting an essay packet in front of each student. When she reached me me, I closed my eyes a second and took a deep breath. I heard the papers hit the table. Felt a slight rush of air as she moved away and on to the next student. Then I opened one eye -- just a teensy weensy bit -- and peeked. I saw my grade. Both my eyes popped open wide in shock and happy disbelief.
Next to the words Essay Grade was 100/A written in bright purple pen. 100? She gave me a 100! I worked hard to contain myself. I looked further down the paper until I found the comments section. Lynn, it said:
This is fun. This is witty. This is inspiring! I really enjoyed the humor. It's always enjoyable to read when you feel like the writer is having fun, too. Plus -- you can write! May I keep a cc for use in classes?
Whoa. Wow. Wow.
I wanted to bounce in my seat. I wanted to clap my hands. I wanted to spring from my chair and happy butt wiggle all over the classroom.
I didn't do any of those things. I just sat there. And while the rest of the class worked on filling in their error logs, I continued to sit there, as there were no errors marked on my paper. I shifted in my seat and set my essay aside. It was easier to resist clutching that paper to my chest and tangoing around the room with it that way.
When class ended, I very calmly packed my things into my bookbag. Without dancing. Or giggling. I'm pretty sure I managed to avoid grinning. I made it out of the building. Across the parking lot to my truck. And about a mile down the road. Then, as I hit the onramp for the highway, I let loose.
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