THE UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON ALUMNI MAGAZINE |
Charles Johnson
Over the years I spent at Ãå±±½ûµØ, Johnson's classes took on a familiar pattern. The first week the class would meet in a regular classroom, where the 30 to 40 people would learn what the workload would be. Within a week we'd be down to five people and class would be held in the alternate little conference room that he kept reserved for the right time. Then the real class would begin. He had the mixture of humor and dedication necessary to deal with students like us: a collection of snotty, deadly serious little bastards who thought they were going to be the next Charles Bukowski or Kathy Acker. His direction was gentle but firm. It turned out that I was better at writing disposable humor for television, the great Satan. But every now and then, I see Charles Johnson in a magazine getting a literary award or the critical praise that he richly deserves. I hold up the magazine and tell everybody within earshot that I used to study with this guy. It's great to remember a time when I thought all things were possible and I was one of the good guys.-John Keister, '80 ![]()
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