The room was full of much younger people than myself. I immediately began to regret signing up for this class. I know it is never too late to learn, but this feels a little ridiculous at 54 years old. I take a seat behind a young woman who stares blankly at the front of the room.
The teacher walks in, and I already know why the young lady is here. The man is distinguished and reminds me of Harrison Ford in the Indiana Jones movies. I shake my head and open my notebook to begin taking notes. I looked back up and was surprised at what I saw.
The teacher had thrown on a brown fedora and threw a brown leather jacket out of the small closet in the corner. There was a sudden crack of a whip as the man pulled it out of the closet as well. He had the shit-eating grin that Indiana Jones had during the movies.
We all looked at each other in amazement, and I yelled, “What are we waiting for?” and ran out the door after our teacher.
“Alright, kiddies, we are about to go on an adventure; follow me,” he yelled and threw the door open.
I could see the teacher round the corner, shoes squealing, into the library. At the same time, I hear the other students come running down the hallway after us. I finally make it into the library and am amazed at the transformation in the library.
Every corner of the room is set up as different scenes, from a murder scene to a horror scene. There is even a romance scene in the far corner, cordoned off with a sign: “Adults Only.” The other people enter the room and look just as amazed as I am.
The teacher jumps up on one of the tables and announces, like the ringmaster at the circus, “The creative process has now begun!”
I knew right then that I made the right decision signing up for this class. It’s true: the teacher can make or break a class.
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