I once took a writing class where the teacher demanded to see all of our rough drafts.
I turned in my final assignment with no notes or rough drafts.
He looked at me sternly and said, "I want to see all of your rough drafts."
I said, "No, I really don't think you do."
He said, "Bring me all the rough drafts, or you fail."
I said, "I'll be right back."
I went out to my car, opened the rear doors, and began an excavation to find all my rough drafts.
It was hard to tell trash from notes, because I just wrote on everything.
I wrote on napkins, post its, cheeseburger wrappers, chunks of cardboard, torn open cereal boxes, even cigarette cartons I found at a buddy's house.
I just scribbled notes on whatever was handy, wherever I happened to be, whenever I had ideas.
(Luckily I didn't own a permanent marker, or there might have been some beer cans... hey, I was young.)
After the excavation, I walked back in with a huge armload of REFUSE, and plopped it all in the middle of the teacher's desk. The entire class stared in amazement, wondering if I'd be killed.
He didn't look like he carried a firearm, but you just never know about people.
Somehow, miraculously, he didn't actually murder me at his desk, as an example to the other students.
He just stared at the pile silently.
Then after a few minutes he pulled out a pen, and began to gingerly poke through the debris, reading bits and pieces, trying carefully, ever so carefully, not to actually touch anything with his bare hands.
Eventually it was over, and I was dismissed along with my pile of refuse.
I wound up getting an A, but after the "refuse incident", he never really looked me in the eye again.
If fact, after that... I don't think he ever looked ANY student in the eye again.
And I heard he moved a huge trashcan into his classroom.
I turned in my final assignment with no notes or rough drafts.
He looked at me sternly and said, "I want to see all of your rough drafts."
I said, "No, I really don't think you do."
He said, "Bring me all the rough drafts, or you fail."
I said, "I'll be right back."
I went out to my car, opened the rear doors, and began an excavation to find all my rough drafts.
It was hard to tell trash from notes, because I just wrote on everything.
I wrote on napkins, post its, cheeseburger wrappers, chunks of cardboard, torn open cereal boxes, even cigarette cartons I found at a buddy's house.
I just scribbled notes on whatever was handy, wherever I happened to be, whenever I had ideas.
(Luckily I didn't own a permanent marker, or there might have been some beer cans... hey, I was young.)
After the excavation, I walked back in with a huge armload of REFUSE, and plopped it all in the middle of the teacher's desk. The entire class stared in amazement, wondering if I'd be killed.
He didn't look like he carried a firearm, but you just never know about people.
Somehow, miraculously, he didn't actually murder me at his desk, as an example to the other students.
He just stared at the pile silently.
Then after a few minutes he pulled out a pen, and began to gingerly poke through the debris, reading bits and pieces, trying carefully, ever so carefully, not to actually touch anything with his bare hands.
Eventually it was over, and I was dismissed along with my pile of refuse.
I wound up getting an A, but after the "refuse incident", he never really looked me in the eye again.
If fact, after that... I don't think he ever looked ANY student in the eye again.
And I heard he moved a huge trashcan into his classroom.
