Red Inked

October 1989.  The humbling lesson in the blue ink:  romantic = human; intellectual = human.  And then there’s the almost unreadable comment at the bottom:  ”Notice how in your first paragraph you have disarticulated CJ’s syntactical logic.”  Heavy stuff for a 20 year old who hasn’t figured out its and it’s (or who has run out of Liquid Paper for the typewriter).

Circa 1989.  This 22 year old (mimeographed!) paper is the reason I still pause before typing an adverb.  See #11.  Helped minimize the red ink on several essays on Henry James.

1987.  Reader Response Essay:  The Thrilling Conclusion (with end comment).  Writes:  ”You seem on the verge of breaking through…”  Thinks:  ”Not so much.  Perhaps you could apply these reader response methodologies to the s/ash grade.  It says B+ but it means B.”

1988.  The commitment-shy professor:  ”This is almost a very good paper.”  ”The writing is by no means bad.”  Doesn’t mean it’s good though. 

Circa 1989.  It’s either the classic backhanded compliment (…”without making this argument explicit, you say as much”) or an unsubtle hint (“how about a thesis there, missy?”).  Bonus: the s/ash grade, a.k.a. I’m-a-pussy-and-can’t-bring-myself-to-give-you-the-B-that-you-really-deserve.

Circa 1988.  ”I really should give you a B- or a C+ on account of the errors in vocabulary…”

1989.  Figured out what a comma splice was.  It only took 18 years of life, 12 years of school, one really, really tough English professor, and the threat of a D on an essay.