The First Class: Curmudgeons, Notebooks, and Candy



Our teacher walked in, sat down among us, looked around the room, and said:

“If anybody in here can name all the Kardashian sisters and can’t name a justice on the Supreme Court, then you probably don’t need to be in my class.”

If he wanted my attention, he got it. I’ll be honest with you, I’ve never heard a teacher begin a first class that way.

My fellow pupils, an assortment of seniors and graduate students, gave each other short, uneasy glances. Truthfully, I thought, “Uh oh. I’m not sure I know the answer to either one. I hope he doesn’t start asking questions.”

Welcome to Advanced Magazine Writing with Rick Bragg, the graduate class I’m auditing at the University of Alabama.

Before I enrolled, I asked my niece, who had taken the course, what to expect. She said, “It’s very good, but he can be intimidating.” I suppose that’s true if you’re a 21-year-old worried about your GPA. But since I’m older than the professor and not getting a grade, I found Rick’s curmudgeonly antics entertaining. It’s quite liberating when you’re just there to learn. Honestly, I’m probably a bit of a curmudgeon myself. And you know how the old saying goes: curmudgeons of a feather flock together.

When we introduced ourselves and shared a bit about who we were, I finished my statement by saying, “And since I’m not getting a grade, I can say whatever I want to him.”

He shot back, “The hell you can.” Everyone laughed.

Within minutes he announced that notes and assignments must be done on paper.

“Oh well. There went five hundred bucks down the drain”, I thought, stuffing my brand-new iPad and Apple Pencil into my backpack. Probably too late for a return trip to the Apple Store. Fortunately, I’d brought an old-fashioned spiral notebook. The look on the students’ faces was priceless. They would’ve been less surprised if he had asked them to write in Classical Greek. Personally, I found pen and paper oddly comforting.

He continued: “And if you don’t read books - well, it’s not too late to drop this class.”

Some other Braggisms:

  • “I expect to see some candy on these tables on Halloween.”
  • “I can be bribed. Around Christmas, chocolate-covered marshmallow Santas will go a long way with me.”
  • “It’s OK to be a dumbass. Everybody is a dumbass now and then.”
  • “Your first paper is due October 7. The next week you’ll come to my office for a Come to Jesus meeting. Or a Come to Allah meeting. Or even a Come to Buddha meeting. I don’t discriminate.”

In between the one-liners, I received excellent teaching. Bragg said he wanted us to paint pictures with words - and if you’ve read any of his books or columns, you know he walks the talk. Just keeping that thought in mind should make me a better writer.

The following week, at the beginning of our second class, I did a quick headcount. The number had dropped to nine. I smiled to myself. Having a curmudgeon for a teacher isn’t for everyone.

But it’s fine by me.

And in case Rick is reading this: Roberts, Thomas, Alito, Sotomayor, Gorsuch, Kavanaugh. Six out of nine justices ain’t bad.

As for the Kardashians? Don’t care.


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