Miles run yesterday: 4.5
Hours spent in class today: 3
New tidbits gleaned from the class: 42
Our social media instructor finds my classmates and me very funny.
I’m taking a class to find out as much as possible about social media, and as it turns out, I came to the right place. My teacher adores all things technological, while many of us press errant buttons with confused expressions on our faces.
One student behind me asks, “Did I do this wrong?”
Our instructor giggles, “There is no wrong way!”
She is a little bit like Glinda the Good Witch. Sometimes when she stops by your desk, the problem sorts itself out magically.
She is likely to exclaim, “Oh! I love technology!” as she clicks on various tabs and explains shortcuts with her Good Witch wand.
Technology makes her smile.
Things that make me smile:
1. A hug.
2. A baby laughing.
When things go awry amidst clicks and tabs and tags, I look to my good friend beside me. She also giggles, but it is a giggle full of irony. She has no wand.
She and I met when we were in college classes the first time around; she looks exactly the same today, which is mildly annoying.
We were in journalism school together, and we both won a coveted (unpaid) internship at a local TV station.
Interns back then spent a lot of time “brainstorming story ideas,” and we did not have the benefit of an Internet to surf. My friend and I sat in cubicles and stared into space a fair amount. Sometimes this made us giggle.
We had a kind of Glinda the Good Witch boss while we were there, although we were never sure exactly what it was she did. One day that I remember in particular, we watched a full episode of Oprah’s “Good News.”
Today, as my friend and I stroll the community college hallways together at break time, she wonders at the youthful types with wires spouting from their ears that we share the space with.
“Did we really look this young when we went to college?”
“Absolutely. Maybe younger,” I say, as I think back to my long shorts and huge, untamed curls.
“Nah. I don’t believe it. That would mean we look old now.”
“Yeah. We do.” I nod and crunch on lightly salted almonds, a snack I would have pooh-poohed as too healthy as a 20-year-old.
As we head back into class, the teacher splits us up into groups, presumably so that my friend and I can’t giggle anymore.
I feel better, because even though Dropbox and Twitter and Google weren’t around 20 years ago, I guess we haven’t changed all that much.