This is a story about a tooth brush, a large bridge, forgotten toll money and parking spaces. Or, maybe it's a tale of clean laundry, the morning commute, being late and new beginnings. Or maybe it's simpler than that. Or more complex.

This is a story about time, late and early, old and new.

Fittingly, Robert's second day at his new school began, like so many before, with a clock, an incessant alarm screaming him into motion. It was fifteen minutes shy of 10 a.m. This being a special occasion of sorts, the opening week of spring semester at the University of South Florida in St. Petersburg, where he had recently transferred to from Florida State University in Tallahassee, Robert gave himself plenty of time to get ready.

Twenty minutes.

Robert kept a tight schedule, and any variation of his agenda threatened to throw his program into a state of disarray. Feeling the pressure, Robert searches clawed through the dryer for clothes his cargo shorts while he brushes his teeth putting the finishing touches on his daily oral procedure. It was ten minutes past ten o'clock, and Robert was already five minutes behind schedule.

Somewhere, he would have to compensate. Progress was nearly in sight when he realized a crucial miscue -- he had left his Sunshine Skyway toll money at home next to his bed. This, he was certain, would be his demise. He busted a U-turn and returned home, snatching two crumpled bills from his nightstand. He was and by the time he is back on track to USF, he is 20 minutes behind schedule. Fortunately, he does not encounter little in the way of too much traffic as he headed north on Interstate 75 and west on I-275, heading toward Exit 22.

He made good time, but was not yet in the clear. He frantically searched the parking lot near the business building, but the only open spots were reserved for the boat club. He expanded his search for a parking spot beyond the business school area, eventually finding an open stall. It was 10:55 a.m., and Robert was walking briskly toward the business building, remembering how he used to run to class at FSU a few months earlier.

By 10:59 a.m., Robert's rally was nearly complete. He exited the elevator on the third floor of the building and entered the door to GEB4890. No open seats. This always happened to Robert when was late to class.

Alas, it was the first day. The teacher briefly discussed the syllabus and class was dismissed by 11:30 a.m., leaving Robert with considerable time before his 2 p.m. expository writing class. Instead of going to the library, Robert ventured into downtown St. Petersburg, discovering the tourist trap/political protest venue/teenage skater haven called Baywalk. He thought of returning with his girlfriend and friends sometime.

After further exploration, a chance meeting with New York Yankees slugger Hideki Matsui and lunch at a strip mall Chinese restaurant, Robert glanced at his watch and realized expository writing was going to begin in fifteen minutes from. TIME TO GO!

This time, he found a parking spot with little effort. It has been several years since he had taken a college-level English or writing class. Arriving to class five minutes early, he thought about the English classes he had taken in high school. They were boring and seemed to last forever, he recalled.

That opinion quickly changed during expository writing.

Explain why ...

Robert, this is by no means the answer or the finished product. It is merely meant to provide you with another way to approach your narrative. Near the end, you make number of statements regarding your feelings about class without providing detail -- about the professor, the room, the structure of the class, what wiki is, etc. Comb back through and see where you might be able to add detail and where you might be able to eliminate it. Nice work, and keep up the engagement. -- EmerySkolfield