Punishment

The snow leopard always entered the class with his vest closed up but then opened it up later on. He placed his briefcase on the table, popped it open, and then took out everyone's papers from the day before.

Scritch Scritch Scritch

Tai-Lung knew the sound of pencil writing anywhere. He looked up and saw Po in his spot at the second row of tables. He had a bright red leather journal, and he was scratching down as many ideas as he could remember. "Mr. Po?"

"Huh? Oh! Hello Mr. Tai-Lung," Po smiled and continued writing. The snow leopard blinked several times. He even rubbed his eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"You're here early."

"Oh, well. I got fired."

"What?!" shouted Tai-Lung and Crane who had come in a few minutes ago. Po quickly told them the whole story. Tai-Lung's normally neutral glare slowly turned into a snarl. With his arms crossed and his sharp teeth showing, his low growling suddenly stopped.

"And what did you do then?"

"Nothing. You told me not to give in to my anger. You were right. It was a waste," Po sighed, closing the journal. "But I am sorry that I couldn't save the journal."

Tai-Lung sighed as well. "I'm more upset about this Boqin than anything else. He's turning out to be a good villain for you to write about."

"You think so?" Po asked.

"Egoistic is a great characteristic. It's hard to write and make believable, but it is profitable," Tai-Lung replied.

"What about the tiger woman?" Crane asked.

"Oh! Well, I actually scheduled an appointment with them. I'm so nervous. What do I do? I don't have any administration skills! I barely have skills as a writer!"

"Enough!" Tai-Lung boomed. The panda and crane shrunk into their seats. "Mr. Po," He grunted with a measured ounce of rage, "You talked about your determination to learn from this class, from others, and from me. Was that just a mere show or do you actually believe that you can learn?"

"I-I think I-"

"That is a yes or no question."

Po gulped, "Yes, Mr. Tai-Lung."

"Getting the next job should be your focus. So don't doubt yourself."

Po sighed, "Why not? I'm not the absolute best writer."

"I know," Tai-Lung said bluntly, "But doubting yourself isn't productive to learning how to become one." Po fell silent as the other classmates trickled in. Class began. "Today, we'll be going into the actual functions of Story. You already had some practice with it, but I can see that some of you still have a fanfiction problem in some of them." He eyed Po in the back. The panda shrunk his head into his shoulders. "As I have said, you can't write without having some kind of knowledge of the real world. Writing is a part of imagination, even in nonfiction, but there must be something that feels... real." Then he wrote this on the board:

You can't write about the world if you don't know what the world is like.

Po raised his hand. "Mr. Tai-Lung, isn't it dangerous to have that rule?"

"Hm?"

"Well, it sounds like you're telling us to try everything."

"Ah, good question," Tai-Lung said, turning back to the students, "Of course, not everything that is permissible is beneficial. You do not need to kill someone to know how to hide a body or how it decays. You can do safe research, but only enough. So my rule of thumb is this: If you're spending more than one day researching what it was like back in 18th century Asia, then you're doing too much. Documentaries are pretty good at giving a wide range of information about time periods. I would warn you to use the internet with care."

"But what if we don't know about it," Po asked.

"That's where your head comes in," Tai-Lung sharply remarked, causing some of the class to snigger. "Writing a story is a balance between writing experience, research, and imagination. Write what needs to explain, but also just write the story."

Tai-Lung wrote conflict underneath the words he wrote.

"Writing conflict is something that I noticed all of you struggle with. What is conflict?" Tai-Lung asked the class. Crane raised his hand.

"It's when someone's interests collide with another."

"Yes," Tai-Lung replied. "Some of you seem to be afraid of conflict." He glanced at Po. The panda rolled his eyes. Why was he the example every time? "Do not use writing as an escape from conflict. It makes for a very...unrealistic storyline. Allow the conflict to happen. If you don't, it means that you're scared of something. Once you have that conflict, then you have to figure out how the person can resolve that. That can not happen without conflict. Remember: Characters always want something, but they do not always get the thing they want but get the thing they need. Conflict can save you and your story and get you out of your bind each and every time. Now, it's time to practice."

They practiced short stories, which Po was having a particularly hard time condensing the words. Tai-Lung looked over his shoulder. "That's too many words."

"I want to make sure I can explain it," Po replied.

"Use fewer words, Mr. Po."

"How?"

"Tell what actually needs to be told. Imagine you're paying by the word."

"But I-" Tai-Lung already walked away before Po could finish. Po sighed and glanced at Crane. "How are you doing this? I mean, how can you cram everything into a few short words?"

"Have you tried looking at other short stories?"

"No?"

"Look at mine." The bird offered his paper to the panda. "It's a little rusty with the description but-"

"Oh!" Po exclaimed as twinkles of realization formed in his eyes. "That's what he means! So they only have to be about one thing instead of multiple things." Po gave his friend's paper back and started writing. By the end of the class, Po gave his work to Tai-Lung. The snow leopard's head jerked back a bit at the absolute brevity of the story. Po had managed to tell a story in less than three hundred words.

"Very good, Mr. Po," Tai-Lung said, "You seem to have figured out how a short story works. Now, try and do that again. I don't want this to be a fluke."

"Yes, Mr. Tai-Lung," Po beamed as he walked out the door with Crane. "YES!"

"I'm glad for you, Po. At least something good happened today," Crane said. The white halls funneled out into an airy brick interior lobby with stringed blue banners for the Feng Shui baseball team. Po waved to the front desk person as he and Crane walked through the revolving doors. "I have to say," Crane spoke up, "You read that story pretty quickly."

"Well, I kinda have fast reading speed," Po said with a shrug. "I think it's somewhere around 300-350 words a minute."

"What?! How?"

"I didn't have a lot of distractions in college, so I either studied, hung out with friends, or read in my spare time. Plus, I write a lot so I kinda have to read fast."

"Wow, no wonder."

As the night sky twinkled with small cold stars, Po halted suddenly as did his bird friend. "Hey, Crane. I was wondering. Why are you taking the class? I mean, you can really find criticism anywhere if you look hard enough, so what's the real reason you're taking this class?"

The crane sighed, "My mom is 'friends' with Mr. Tai-Lung. She said that I needed to get out of the house. Ever since my dad died, I... haven't really been managing myself."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. I'm getting better. Besides, it was nearly two years ago."

"Still."

"Part of me did want to try and write better for my science research job, but I kinda did this class because I holed myself up like a pathetic scrawny child afraid of his shadow."

"Hey, hey!" Po interjected, "That's not true. You're not pathetic. Your dad died and that's hard for anyone to get through. And it's okay to be afraid, but you can't just punish yourself... because you're... afraid."

"Po?" The panda's look drifted to a far-off dark place as what he said rested itself in his mind. Po pulled out his journal and wrote down what he said. "You had an idea?" Crane asked.

"No. I write down anything that is inspirational or is kinda a revelation."

"What did you realize?" Crane asked.

Po rubbed the back of his neck. "That I've been talking about myself. Anyway, I need to get going. See ya, Crane."

"See you, Po. And thank you for the help."

"Anytime!" Po smiled grandly. Through driving, parking, and unlocking the door of his apartment, Po slowly processed his epiphany. He was punishing himself for being afraid. All the attempts to be safe weren't just sprinkled with self-loathing of his actions, but they were also periods of shame that he never realized before.

But his body felt lighter. Now he didn't have to hold the whip anymore. A broad smile came to his face as he opened the door and greeted Mei.

To Be Continued...