I wore makeup, wore a pair of cute Lulu Guinness flats with my jeans to class and proceeded to silently play “Last Dance” in my head. It was my LAST MFA CLASS, ever!
We workshopped three pieces. Filled out class evaluations (“Please set expectations up front with students on written feedback, please,” I wrote. Some people just sucked at written feedback–to the last class, a couple of them only wrote two or three sentences as summary feedback to people). There was a feast on the table–everyone brought a little something to eat. The mood was jovial. Someone in our class suggested we go around and list our writing intentions and goals at the end. We did that.
I was soooo sad and it felt soooo bittersweet. But in reality, it was very anticlimactic, subtle. I just left class like always, walked alone to my car. Like slipping out of a room with no one noticing. I came home (it’s a night class) to my husband already asleep. Definitely like leaving a party unnoticed.
But I’ve left the party. And I’m going to make a new one. New writing goals, a new writing discipline. A new writing life!
And congratulations to my buddy friend heather! She’s just turned in her MFA thesis, and she’s leaving her party, too. Heather and I met years ago via our blogs when we were both applying to MFA programs. (My G*d that feels like a distant memory now). We’ve met in real life, kept up a correspondence, and now–now, we’re both graduating in sync. She’s been a wonderful pal. Yay, heather!