My creative writing course at Otterbein came to an end a few weeks ago. Although my Wednesday evenings are free once again, I find myself missing the discussions and discovery that occurred in nearly every class. When my wife signed me up for this course as a Christmas gift, she worried that I would take offense. Maybe I would feel insulted to be sent back to a college classroom as a student with people far younger than myself. Her worries were unfounded. I have long considered myself a lifelong learner. Indeed, as an adjunct instructor at Columbus State, I have often learned as much from my students as they have from me.

So, far from taking offense, I relished the opportunity to return to the college classroom as a student, and it was no surprise that I learned a great deal not only from Professor Hermsen but also from my fellow students. Most of those students proved to be every bit my equal in terms of motivation, insight, and creative energy. To Professor Hermsen’s credit, he created a class atmosphere that encouraged students to cooperate and collaborate for their mutual benefit. Such an atmosphere was usually absent in the graduate-level courses I took at Ohio State in the late 1970s. Back then, students were encouraged to argue and criticize each other.

English 1160 prompted me to look at new things and new ideas, and to look at my own world in new ways. As a result, I wrote things I would never have otherwise written. At times, I even became a totally different person. For one assignment, I turned myself into a claustrophobic ice skater trapped in an antique shop. For another, I became a Cuban teenager with aspirations of going to America and pitching in the big leagues. Some assignments pushed me into genres of writing that are not my forte. Prior to this course, I never felt comfortable writing free-verse poetry, but now I know such writing is within my skill range.

One final thing I learned from English 1160 is that writing can spring from nearly any source. It can emerge from casual observations recorded in a notebook, from an evening stroll around a farmyard, or from music heard during a concert. A sudden burst of writing might follow from a pre-designed exercise; another burst could be spawned by dream fragments and story excerpts written on cards and randomly selected. Early in the course, Professor Hermsen noted, “a writer is someone on whom nothing is lost.” At first, I thought that might be an overstatement. Now, I think he’s mostly right.