Tuesday, February 19, 2013


I can't write. Straight up. Like I got Ds in English all the way though highschool and I didn't even think I was going to college until they said I could play football. So I figured you know if they were going to pay for it and all and the first class I have to take is Comp 105. And I got this dude with glasses and frizzy hair and he's like got all this grammar and shit all over the board and so I figure I tell him right off.

 Listen man I say by his desk whiles he's tapping away on his laptop. I can't motherfuckin write.
He looks at me man like I just told him I was going to shoot him or something.
He says. Of course you can. Now take your seat.
This dude and I are not going to get along. I can see this right away and sure enough he gives us the first assignment and  its what did we do over summer vacation.. Like I thought this was college and they giving me the same shit as high school. But I write it up anyway.

And back comes an F. I go up and talk to him and say I told you I cant write.
He looks at me and adjusts his glasses.
You can write. You just didn't follow the rubric. I don't know what the fuck he is talking about except he gives me this sheet with all this diagramming and shit about how to write an essay. Same as the board man. He talking about all this grammar and shit that I didn't get in high school and I don't get it now. And so he just keeps giving me assignments and I keep getting Fs. He writes across the top of my paper. DID NOT FOLLOW ASSIGNMENT DID NOT FOLLOW RUBRIC.

So I flunk. And that means I got to go to summer school. So I'm thinking now  me and this college aint going to be long for each other you know. But I go down to the English building and wait in this classroom and this dude appears. He's got long hair and wears cowboy boots and he sits down and throws his boots up on the desk.
Write me something he says.
Ah Mr.C. I cant use his real name. I say, listen Mr. C aint no way I can write. You just going to give me an F like everybody else.
He stares at me.
Write anything you want but write  the way you talk. Your own voice.
Straight up?
And then he leaves.

And so I write about my dad and how he always a bad ass and busting me for shit but how he real happy when I go to college. Mr. C comes back in and reads it then looks up at me,
What are you here for?
Yo Mr.C. I got an F in comp 105.
He stares at the paper.
You have your own voice. You know how to tell a story and your funny.
He looks up.
I'm passing you. Get out of here and go enjoy the summer
So I get up to leave you know and right at the door I turn.
Yo Mr.C. I's got to ask you something. You a teacher?
I had to ask him you know because he didn't seem like no teacher I ever had.
He looks at me and says.
No...I'm a writer.
I stare at him.
Yeah I say. Straight up?
Straight up he says.
So I leave you know. But that Mr. C...he the best motherfuckin teacher I ever had.

Rocket Man...you dont have to conform to find your way out


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