I drag my wheeled book tote to the front of the room and write my name on the whiteboard. “Let's introduce ourselves," I say. "I'll start. My name is Brenda Watnik. I have a Master's degree in Creative Writing from Cal State Long Beach. I've been a teacher for ten years, and this is my third year at this college."
Like all good lies, my biography contains a kernel of truth. I did attend Cal State Long Beach in my youth, although my major was Art History, and I didn't graduate. I really have been at Something College three years, but this is my first teaching job. I was hired at a frantic time when enrollment was exceptionally high and experienced teachers were in short supply; my resume was not fact-checked.
"Now it's your turn," I say. "Tell me about yourselves." I have discovered that pretending to be interested in the students boosts my evaluation scores, almost as much as my generous grading policies. Something College values those scores. Highly-rated teachers make the school look good. In return for my success at charming the class, I was offered first chance at what the administration inexplicably considers the most desirable assignment in the department, "Introduction to Creative Writing." In a way, creative writing is my specialty.
Brenda Watnik is an instructor at a small college in Southern California, and swears that this story is not autobiographical.