I am not normal.

I know, surprise surprise, right? Well (in the tone of an old woman sitting beneath the drier in a beauty shop about to divulge a particularly juicy piece of gossip. In other words, the word is lengthened and there is a particular emphasis on the W, almost as if it's spelled "Whell" -- and I suppose it could be, if we wanted to form a new word... a word for what I just described.... yeah) as some or all of you may know, I am less than impressed with my Screenwriting class. Early on, the coursework went something like this:

1. Read chapters from textbook.
2. Write down the answers to homework questions taken word for word from the text.
3. Attend class, respond to questions (the same ones) by reading answers written as homework.
4. Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

As some of you may also be aware, simple regurgatation is a learning method that might be successful (when teaching a bunch of first graders), but it is not one that makes a class interesting or worth my or anyone else's time. Rather, it fosters lapses in attention and catnaps as the class sits, anxiously waiting for the hour and fifteen minutes to drag by.

Later (the past couple of weeks), we have taken to reading the scripts and doing coverage for them (i.e. going line by line and labeling the setups and the punches). Slightly more interesting, yes. Our professor, however, takes a non-authoritative stance. This is fine, I suppose, but now we have learned pretty much that there are no right and wrong answers, and that one man's setup is another man's punch... that one man's punch might be another man's topper (actual phrases employed by our professor.)

In short, we haven't really learned anything in this class. I will now copy and past the text of a group e-mail message I recieved this morning from my professor [bracketed comments are my own]:

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Ladies and Gentlemen of English 445,

In view of your solid grasp of Elements of Comedy and Coverage, I see no need to put you through the paces of citing set ups, punches, toppers, etc. for Seinfeld's "The Wink." You clearly understand this material. [we do?] Bravo! [thanks]

I would like to offer you a little time off by canceling our screening this Monday, February 21st and our class this Tuesday, February 22nd [interesting].

I will ask you all to be sure to attend class on Thursday, February 24th in order to screen "The Wink" and to discuss your upcoming Beat Sheet presentations [not really sure what these are] next week.

Next week marks a turning point in our class in that the focus will be shifting from produced work to your work.

In addition to these changes, please note one more: we will not meet for a screening on Monday, February 28th, either. Our Monday evening screenings will resume on March 7th and 14th. I'll reiterate [yourself incessantly?] these changes in class on Thursday [oh].

Enjoy a little time to do other things. I feel you've earned it [forgive me if I'm not entirely convinced].

Cheers,
Ann Reckling
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I mean, I don't want to sound like a Hermione Granger or anything, but seriously? When have you heard of a professor cancelling THREE class meetings because they feel we're ahead of the game? Don't professors usually attempt to pack all they can into every minute they have with their students, and still find that there's not enough time at the end of it all? It just seems a little incongruous to me.

Anyway.

Today's one of those days in Manhattan where the smell outside breeds several scatological jokes, none of which I will relate here because, well, they're just not that funny outside of my head. "The smell of money" (as it has so often been euphemized by people I know) is particularly powerful today. I suppose that is a good thing for all of us.