First Day of Classes
She was late. It was the first day of classes and she was late. Damn this class. Why did she have to take an English anyway? Science she could deal with. It was logical and rational with mostly definitive answers. Art she could also handle. Looking at a painting was easy. The light. The background. The foreground. The focal points. Colors and shadows. Art she understood. Art she could appreciate. Well, most art. She never really understood Picasso’s later works but then again she wasn’t really meant too.
But English? Words on top of words on top of words? Reading between the lines? Subtext? Sub-sub text? No thank you. She would rather pick up paint brush or even read the Urinary tract section of her Anatomy text book. Anything but decipher a poem or drudge through a novel of mammoth proportions.
But her damn school, Polis University was a legitimate and proud liberal arts college and they required at least 1 English credit to graduate. That’s why, in the last semester of her senior year, Clarke was taking an English class. English 134: Introduction to Women Writers.
An English Class she was late too!
She sprinted up the steps of the Ark building and jogged to classroom 107. The damn door was already closed. Now she'd have to make the awkward entrance and everyone would stare. Hopefully the professor wouldn't be the strict type. Clarke tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, stood up straight, and walked into the room.
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“As explained this class will focus on women’s writers. We will be discussing poetry, essays, and a few novels. All of which you will be tested on. This is primarily a………….” Lexa ceased speaking as the door opened. Creaking in an obnoxious way that demanded the eyes of the entire room.
Frowning at the interruption she looked over at the intruder. A blond girl in brown leather jacket and skinny jeans flashed her an apologetic smile. Her blue eyes barely meeting Lexa’s eyes as she found a vacant seat in the back of the classroom. Running a hand through her hair the blond girl dropped her back pack on the floor and slipped into a seat. Clearing her throat Lexa continued with her first day lecture.
“As I was saying this is primarily an English class but we will be exploring feminist literature. This includes works from Sappho, Audre Lorde, Adrianne Rich, and even Charlotte Bronte. The syllabus I passed out will have all the required readings and list of grade breakdowns. Any Questions?”
Lexa scanned the room. Looking over her students. Knowing that one of these overanxious hardworking students would need clarification on something that was explicitly spelled out in the syllabus.
“So no final test? Just a final paper that counts as 30% of our final grade?” a girl asked.
“Yes. Just as stated on the sheet. It will be a paper between 5-7 pages on a topic of your choice or a topic from the list.” Lexa answered. Another question was soon asked.
“Do you have office hours?”
“Unfortunately with limited space I don’t have an actual office. I’m a first year graduate student so I’m not high up on the totem pole. However, as printed on the sheet, I am happy to meet whenever any of you need. It might just have to be at a coffee shop or in the union. Just email me to set up an appointment. Any other questions?”
No one spoke as Lexa glanced around the classroom. Lexa’s eyes were drawn to the back of the room, meeting the blue eyes of the blond girl who walked in late. The girl meet her eyes brazenly. An unwavering gaze. Lexa studied her for a moment. The blond hair had been put up into a messy but with tendrils framing a heart-shaped face. She was exceedingly pretty, beautiful even. A Byron beauty if ever there was one.
Turning back to the class she said, “Ok. So no more questions? Good. Now I’m sure most of your classes do that obnoxious thing where everyone goes around and introduces themselves but I find that tedious, unnecessary, and quite frankly boring. So we are just going to begin…”
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Clarke’s pen moved rapidly as she tried to take down notes. Her handwriting had grown sloppy as she struggled to write everything. Now most of the page was of it was in some version of shorthand that she hoped she’d be able to decipher it later. God, was this class going move this quickly the whole year? Clarke didn’t know if she would be able to handle it. They hadn’t even started reading anything yet and Clarke had almost 5 whole pages of notes.
“So while we did have a few women writers prior to the 19th century, such as Alphra Behn, most of the women writers you all would have heard of is from the 19th century. Such as Mary Shelley, the Bronte sisters, and Jane Austen. Although they mainly used pen-names to write under. For example Jane Austen first published under the name ‘A. Lady’. While the Bronte sisters all published under the surname ‘Bell.’” The professor said as she paced the front of the room.
Clarke hadn’t yet got the professor’s name. She had walked in too late to hear it. Her tardiness also cost her the syllabus. She thought of raising her hand and asking for one but decided against. She much rather go to the professor after class, apologize for her tardiness, and get the syllabus then. She wouldn’t mind a little one on one get-to-know your professor time. It also didn’t hurt that the professor was young and very attractive. What Bellamy and Raven would call a dime. Long brown hair. Green eyes. Angular face. Yes, definitely a dime. And a young dime too. She couldn’t be more than 25.
“............so we need to remember that at this time the novel was relatively new invention. It was considered a lower form of entertainment and was for the unsophisticated. Samuel Johnson even claimed the novel was for the “the young, the ignorant, and the idle.” While poetry, Shakespeare, and Milton were for the sophisticated and intelligent. So if publishers were going to publish novels, they would only publish books by men. For books by men would sell while a book by a women would never make it out of the store.”
Clarke scrambled to write down ‘the young, the ignorant, and the idle’. It seemed like something that would be useful on a test or in an essay.
“In fact,” the professor continued, “I read an article once that said even JK Rowling was asked to use her initials because the publishers thought her books wouldn’t sell as well if they had the women’s name of ‘Joanne’ on the cover.” The professor paused here for a moment. A contemplative look on her face as she gazed into space. She frowned slightly before recovering herself and continuing.
“Ok, that’s all for today. Please start reading Jane Eyre and the few poems I assigned. Sorry for the straight lecture today but you all need a brief history of women writers for this class. The rest of the classes will be more discussion based so please read. Thank you and I’ll see you Wednesday.”
Clarke slowly put her notebook into her bag and shrugged her coat on. She fiddled with her phone as she waited for other students to leave. After a few other students spoke to the professor Clarke approached her.
“Hi, I’d like to apologize for being late to class and causing any disruption. It won’t happen again.” Clarke said with a smile as she held out her hand. It was accepted with a firm grip. Clarke quickly studied the hand and noticed short fingernails.
“Please just don’t make a pattern of it Ms.……….”
“Griffin. Clarke Griffin. And I’m sorry I didn’t quite get your name professor?”
“A pleasure to meet you Clarke, I’m Lexa.”
Clarke’s eyebrow rose at the invitation to call the professor by her first name.
“Shit, sorry I mean I’m professor Woods. Sorry, I’m still not used to this teaching thing. I only graduated last year and now I’m in my first year of grad school and they have me teaching undergrads. It’s hard to make the transition. It still feels like I’m one of you.” Professor Woods said a bit shyly. Her face went a bit pink and she ran a hand through her hair. Clarke go the impression that Professor Woods was't usually this flustered.
Clarke laughed and said, “No I understand. After being an undergrad for 4 years it becomes almost a part of you. I only have one semester left and sometimes I’m afraid my identity will change after I graduate. I’m so used to being a student.”
“Yeah, it’s an interesting change. I’m still quite nervous about teaching. I didn’t have a class last semester so this my first one. It’s quite unnerving to be teaching people who were my peers only as year ago.” Lexa said.
“So you went to undergrad here?” Clarke asked. Wanting to carry on the conversation.
Another class was starting to trickle into the classroom so the two women slowly made their way out into the hallway.
“No, I did undergrad at Ton-DC in English and Poli-Sci. But I always wanted to do English graduate work here at Polis.” Lexa answered. Her hands fiddling with something on her bag.
“No I didn’t think you were from here. We would have had a few overlapping years and well, It’s not that big of a school and I definitely would have remembered you.” Clarke said before giving Lexa a flirty smile. Clake knew it was borderline inappropriate but she just couldn't help it. Something came over her.
Lexa smirked before replied, “Oh, I definitely would have remembered you too Clarke, and I would have made sure that you remembered me.”
For a moment their eyes locked. Blue boring into green. Green gazing into blue. Clarke reached out and boldly moved a lock of hair from for Lexa’s face. Her hand skimming the edge of Lexa’s cheek before pulling away.
Then a student accidentally knocked into Lexa and the spell broke. Lexa’s eyes widened and she jumped as if returning to reality.
“Shit. I’m sorry Clarke....Ms. Griffin, that was inappropriate and I apologize. I’m very sorry. Please forgive me. I…….I ummmm I have to go but if you stay in my class I’ll see you Wednesday.” Lexa muttered quickly before turning and practically running down the hallway.
Clarke leaned against a wall as she watched her professor exit the building in a rush. This semester had just gotten a bit more interesting. Maybe this English class won’t be so bad.