Exercise and Participants' Texts

The participants were asked to complete a text (poem or prose) beginning with the following phrase: "I'll never forget the fellow student who..." George Ellenbogen advised the writers to be as specific as possible after a tantalizing first sentence and to use concrete sights and sounds, colorful verbs as well as precise adjectives and adverbs. Perhaps an image could represent emotions, he pointed out. After the students had read aloud their texts to the group, George Ellenbogen read his poem "In Memory of Elise Orange Who Studied Composition" about a striking student he (and we) couldn't forget!

some members of the Intermediate Writing class, summer 2002

I'll never forget the fellow student who loved his dog more than anything else in the world. The whole class knew how much he adored "Adonis" and they made fun of him. One day when the teacher had left the classroom, like every other day the other students started to laugh at him and ridicule Adonis. The student became very angry. Sitting right next to him I could see how his face reddened, how he slowly stood up, how his eyes fixed aggressively upon the boys who had insulted his pet. I'll never forget how this shy and polite boy took his chair and threw it right through the window. I'll never forget the sound of breaking glass, the screams of frightened girls, and the angry voice of the teacher re-entering the classroom. He came in order to punish the boy who had just defended the dog he loved more than anything else in the world.

I'll never forget the fellow student who disappeared one day.
She jumped out of my car,
alarmed by a loud noise I'd chosen to ignore.
She wasn't really capable of repairing cars
nor was I.
But together we crawled in the dirt
on our backs
under the car,
providing a strange performance for all people watching us.
They walked by with a grin
and we grinned back,
already knowing we would soon overtake them
in my fixed car.

I'll never forget the fellow student who helped me pass my first English exam. She was quite experienced in English and we revised for five solid days, with the result that I finally passed the exam. After this painful experience, I tried to do the learning myself.

I'll never forget the fellow student who
stood up in this unforgettable night
far away in a pub.
The student who
had no fear of making a fool of himself.
The student who
had the courage to stand up,
to go to the piano and
to play.

I'll never forget the fellow student who didn't really play better chess than me, but nevertheless always won. As soon as he discovered my preference for the bishops, he snatched them away, sacrificing his knights for them. Having then developed new strategies with my knights, I couldn't succeed because he eliminated them with his bishops. That way he taught me how to employ more and more new tactics. Yet with his destructive creativity he countered all of my potentially ingenious long-range moves, and somehow he was always a bit ahead.
During the sit-ins, political gatherings, or drama rehearsals of the 1968 upheavals at the university, he never spoke up, was always sheer ear. But at the committee meetings of the opposing groups, panels, and seminars, he bloomed with insider news, an informer with nothing to offer by himself. Like a sniper he shot his verbal arrows from behind at brave and responsible backs he couldn't conquer otherwise. Thus he soon became head of the important self-governing student board.
You couldn't really say in advance what he was up to - except that maybe one day he would become president.

I will never forget the fellow student whom
I have recently seen again.
Standing under the tree in the shadow of leaves
I saw him from behind but I knew it was him.
He was simply standing there,
and with him time was standing still.
The minute lasted forever.
I said no word - I did not even breathe.
I don't know how much time passed;
I did not care.
Then he turned,
and I could see a single tear running down his face.
What for? I shall never know.

I'll never forget the student, a tall, broad-shouldered young man, who knitted every Tuesday in my General Language Course. He'd pull out his shiny knitting needles and large ball of dark green yarn, knit a row, pearl a row, knit a row, pearl a row, click, click, click,. CLACK, CLACK, CLA... - "Oh dear, he dropped a stitch!" The story of English was dull in comparison to his fascinating progress. We watched the sweater grow week by week and were proud to see him come to the final class session sporting our warm, woolly sweater!

I'll never forget the fellow student who collapsed twice during a slippery bus ride down the icy slope from the University to the train station in Weidenau. While most of the passengers were in shock about the situation, it seemed that the bus driver's only problem was to keep to the schedule, and the student's main concern was to catch her train on time. Finally the student left the bus with two of her friends at the height of the winter storm, and the other passengers found that they could be home in time for lunch.

I'll never forget the fellow student who left the classroom and then came in again as another person. He was no longer a friendly young man but a frightening and dominant person, shouting orders, criticizing without any respect for other people.
And then the tempest was over and he was the same as before.
He had perfectly played the role of a novel character and thus given us a glimpse into a fictional world.

I'll never forget the fellow student who passed me by yesterday afternoon in the hallway. She caught my attention, and I caught her eye. Her eyes were deep green, as green as the leaves mirrored in the window. I was so ashamed, since I have learned never to look into a person's eyes. Sigh. I got carried away by her natural beauty.
But it was not really her eyes, or her beautiful face, or her long brown hair which reflected an inner loveliness. It was her smile. I am quite sure. No, it was her movement. The way she glided through the hallway, radiating her beauty to her surroundings. Spreading her wings.
She flew away, perhaps to escape my gaze.

I'll never forget the fellow student who always came late. She just stood here and there and, well, just dragged along. The convoy started to move and some folks stayed behind, waiting for the straggler. After the trek had begun, the student I'll never forget showed up, closing ranks with the round-up team. Like a caravan crossing the Sahara, we moved in clusters on that long, long trail. Or we set sail on the voyage over the ocean in a ragged fleet of small ships - along with that student snail.

I'll never forget the fellow student who always shows up when I least expect it. Meeting him is strange because he appears in rooms all of a sudden, slipping into them without anybody noticing it. And then suddenly he stands right behind you whispering in your left ear: "Hey you! Haven't seen you for ages." Absolutely true; in fact, I never know when I last bumped into him, just like I can't anticipate when I'll run into him next.

I'll never forget the fellow student who made me cry.
We were not best friends;
she was like a nice song
that you love to hear,
but you wouldn't miss
when the radio's turned off.

That's what you think.

Now, the radio is turned off - and I miss her.
But I can still hear the music.