The Participation Grade

On Homer, a professor who said no, and the most expensive habit in a founder's career

Columbia sent me a book before I ever set foot on campus. Homer’s Iliad, in the mail, over the summer. I remember thinking, with real optimism, that this was how it was going to work from here on out. They were just going to send us our books.

They did not send us our books. That was the only one.

But you were supposed to read it before you arrived, because the first day of Literature Humanities (Lit Hum IYN) was not a syllabus review. It was a discussion.

I walked in ready. I had done the reading. I was in college now, I was taking this seriously, and I had the distinct sense that the whole thing was going to be a breeze because I was putting in more effort. The professor, a grad student, asked a question. I do not remember the question. I remember my hand going up high and straight, the way it does when you want to be picked. He pointed at me. I gave my answer.

He said, “No.”

Then he moved to the next person.

I did not speak in that class again for two or three weeks.

What that “no” installed in me was a rule I did not choose and could not see. I have to be a thousand percent sure I am right before I open my mouth.