I nearly died on the spot. My cheeks started to burn as I shook my head. “I’m Allie. And, uh, I wrote about the same exact thing as Sam, so it would probably be, uh, better to have someone else go?” Just getting the words out with all those eyes upon me was torture.

Ms. Gallo smiled encouragingly at me. “I think that would make it even more interesting! Why don’t you give it a shot? Don’t be nervous. Just pretend we’re not here.”

Oh jeez. Was it that obvious that I was nervous? “Uh, okay.” I gulped, trying to channel Tamiko’s advice to get my writerly funk on, whatever that meant!

My hands shook as I lifted the paper and began to read.

“A little louder, please,” said Ms. Gallo kindly.

I lifted my voice, and it wobbled a little. I was so nervous while I was reading that I kind of had an out-of-body experience, like this was happening to someone else. It was over before I knew it, and I remembered exactly none of it. I sat perfectly still, my face aflame, waiting for (dreading) the feedback.

“That was wonderful, Allie,” said Ms. Gallo. “A little short, though. Is it the full five hundred words?”

I shook my head. “I only came up with four hundred,” I said softly.

She nodded. “Okay. My compliment is that I liked the way you described the eco aspect as part of your review. It was well done and relevant, and a good slant. My criticism is, it could be longer. I wanted more. Who wants to give the next critique?”

I nodded at Ms. Gallo and, with shaking hands, made a note of her critique in my notebook.

One girl said my description of the Amazing UnBurger made her mouth water, and other people agreed, which made me feel really good. Another said she liked my attention to detail on the food I had tried, but she wished I’d gone into more depth about other offerings on the menu besides what I’d eaten. Many people agreed with that, which made me cringe because it was true—I should have done that. Another person said he would have liked it if I had criticized something. Then he would have known it wasn’t just a puff piece full of compliments, and he would have trusted me more. Everyone began to chatter away about how much a reviewer should criticize versus how much they should praise, and I sat back and let the din pass over my head as people ripped my piece to shreds, or so it felt.

Ugh.

The criticisms felt more specific and real to me than the compliments; I knew I’d remember them forever and toss and turn in bed that night, thinking back on class and the changes I wished I’d made. I wasn’t sure I had the nerves for this level of public humiliation.