In which our heroine craves valium

I had my first actual lesson-lesson today and my confidence for the next two years has been completely undermined. I haven't had a problem putting my hand up and offering ideas and answers since I finished school and the last few days have been so relaxed that the classes felt more like a group conversation where there were no wrong answers.

Today I was late because I have a forty mile commute and hit traffic in the last mile so I was already worried I'd pissed off the tutor but it was all for nothing. The class was being held in one of the hospitality boxes at the stadium with a big window overlooking the pitch and I sat so I could see the man who cuts patterns in the grass. And I was settled in for class. Today was portfolio writing and Harvard referencing, and I kind of got it. I think. Then the tutor asked a question, I can't even remember what it was now, but I offered an answer expecting he would just say yes or no and move on to other people.

But he didn't. He decided to look at me expectantly like I hadn't finished my answer. So I scrabbled for a fuller answer, umming and ahhing and making no sense towards the end and then finally giving up and asking him to move onto someone else. Which, mercifully , he did. I was ridiculously shook up by the whole thing and you'd think I'd learnt my lesson but it had to happen twice more before I learned to stop putting my hand up.

We then had to write mock report conclusions and introductions and though my conclusion was the only one that didn't get critiqued to pieces, after he had read my introduction out he stared at it frowning for a full 30 seconds before murmuring "there is something about it..."

Blind panic. Alarm bells. Armageddon and horsemen. I blurt out everything that could possibly be wrong with my writing. After, he looks at me, hmms, nods, and moves onto the next person.

And now I will be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my natural essay-writing life.