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Actually the second year was the Professor, a visiting PHD from a Philadelphia women's college, to teach by special program in Santa Rosa for a year, invited by my film teacher. The Professor's claim to fame was that he had set up the Annenberg School for Communication, one of the best communication schools in the country.
I was the Professor's pet student. He assigned us all to write in personal journals and to answer quizzes and tests by written journal, of which he gave everyone an F. After the first F, I would write treatises on quizz and test subject matter, with separate paper, and I didn't use the journal anymore. I got an A for the class whilst everyone else got low grades. I said I stopped using the journal and you did not, explains it.
He and I would drive places together on the weekends and he would make audio tapes of things and people, and was able to publish his tapes on National Public Radio and I would edit them. Because of his credentials he had access to famous people.
The Professor went back to Philadelphia for Christmas. He was not married. And he rode the Greyhound bus back
cross-country like a pioneer. And when he got back to Californian, he considered all of his California students as spoiled brats. He had spent time riding buses with the common people, and had a common person political aesthete, and now was too good for all of us.
The Professor was a Jesuit or at least he called a Jesuit priest weekly back east. The Professor sent me to cover a public broadcasting meeting at some hotel on Market Street SF, that I had to take a bus down for. I was there by nine. I stayed an hour.
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