Blurred Lines Read Online Free PDF

the row. A set of stairs trailed down the middle of the theater to the front of the class, and Lauren found it fascinating that a room could be set up to seat so many, yet no matter where you sat or how far back in the rows you were, you had a full view of the front podium. She wondered if the professor would need a microphone. The laughter and voices from the rows closer to the front seemed to carry all the way to the back of the room where she was without much effort.
    It was precisely eight-thirty when a tall, lanky man with a striking resemblance to Albert Einstein shuffled into the room from the entrance on the left side. Lauren watched him as he looked about. It was obvious he was unprepared for the number of students sitting before him as well. He set the stack of papers and books down on the table near the raised platform he stood on and turned to face the crowd.
    “Well, well, well. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a full house this semester!” His voice boomed across the openness of the theater. He most definitely was not going to need a microphone. It was evident how pleased he was with the turnout. His tone conveyed a sense of confidence that caused the last few students still talking or turned around in their seats to take notice of him. If Lauren had been unable to seen him, she would never have pictured a man who looked the way he did to have his voice.
    “I’m Professor Erickson. However, that’s far too formal and I would welcome and appreciate it if you would call me by my first name, Anthony.” With this, he gave his students a warm smile and then launched into an introduction that wouldn’t soon be forgotten.
    “With that out of the way, I can now tell you these next four months will not only be informative and curriculum based, but…oh hell, who am I kidding? I’m not one to follow the rules and I certainly am not going to keep track of attendance like you’re all a bunch of adolescents!” He proceeded to hold up a piece of paper, which must have been the attendance list, and then ripped it in half twice, tossing the resulting pieces into the air so that they scattered like giant confetti onto the floor. Laughter broke out among the students, making Anthony shrug, a small smile crossing his face.
    “The curriculum states that I will teach you the following.” He held his hand up to count off each point. “Proper grammar, punctuation, and structure of different types of works.” Anthony wrinkled his forehead in disgust at such an idea, making him look like a Mr. Potato Head toy trying to imitate Einstein. Snickering could be heard throughout the rows of students.
    “The way I see it is this,” Anthony continued. “If, by now, you do not know how to use punctuation, grammar, or what the basics are of creative writing, you probably wouldn’t have enrolled in a post secondary level creative writing course. Perhaps I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt and I do suppose that time will tell how correct I am, but if you do not know those three things already, feel free to learn them on your own time.” He grew silent to let this sink in for a moment. From the back of the room, Lauren could see heads turning from side to side, searching their fellow students’ faces for confirmation that they were, in fact, in the right class.
    “Now,” Anthony spoke more dramatically this time, “Let’s jump into this head first and see what we’re really made of, shall we?” He held his hands up as if preparing to announce the race of a lifetime and then winked at the entire class. “I need everyone sitting on the right side of the room to look to their left and shakes hands with the person sitting beside them or closest to them. Then, what I need you to do is introduce yourself because you and that person are about to be paired up together for the first assignment.”
    Lauren turned to her left. She had the aisle seat, so she had to look to the other side of the room. There, a lone man sat,