These things happen when I let my romantic side runaway with itself. The upside is that after a few miles it realizes that it is just that, by itself. However, not being one to quit...until I have a good reason (=P), I shall at least give it a shot. Somebody, quick! Tell me you don't like it so I can stop. I guess that's a good way to measure it. Problem being, no one ever comes here. Ah well, here it goes.
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At first glance, he didn't seem all that interesting to me. Then again, who am I to judge? I've never really been interested in a persons looks. We'll all be wrinkled and saggy when we get old anyway, right?
There was the standard amount of excitement about having a teacher who wasn't thirty six thousand years old. Meaning, one or two mentioned the fact before he walked in and class started. It was a typical first day of class with syllabi, introduction lectures and general boredom until he suddenly stopped mid sentence.
"This is really very boring. So, we're going to read something today. This is, after all, a literature class. And lucky me, I just happen to have a few extra copies of the first play we're going to read. Who wants to read a part?"
The overall enthusiasm of the class was enough to knock a man out of his chair. If he was drunk and falling out anyway. Silence was his response, but he didn't seem phased by it. His voice didn't seem to help the situation. Not that it was boring, but it wasn't very authoritative. It probably didn't help his case that he was still so young.
Actually, there wasn't much remarkable about him in general. His hair was brown with little rivers of gold to break it up. It wasn't combed in any particular fashion, just out of his face, and it fell just below his ears. He didn't look or sound like much besides a professor.
"No volunteers? Excellent. That means I get to pick."
I was duly befuddled as to exactly why he was so darn excited about all of this, but I suppose you just become that way when you get to teach something you love. I would probably have been just as excited about teaching this class as he is. Literature is my secret passion.
Secret because I am well aware of how I am supposed to be. I am not supposed to have any interest in the arts because the arts simply aren't as profitable as the sciences, or so they say. Besides, I'm supposed to be "the science kid." I won the science fairs in elementary school, I got good grades in those classes, I was in the Science Honor Society and I was going to high places, in science. Goodness forbid my interest in these things extend any farther than a hobby. Who knows what would happen if it was discovered that I was taking this Shakespeare class for any reason besides my need for a humanities credit.
"Ms.Kleins, are you going to stay in your head or would you like to join us?"
I did it again. Drat. Professors always do the same thing when they discover you spacing out in class.
"Perhaps you would like to read one of these characters for us?"
"What play is it?"
"I figured we should start with something we have all run into so we can learn how to analyze Shakespeare with a play we are comfortable with, before we go onto his other works."
"Oh brother, Romeo and Juliet. How disgusting." I meant to mumble all of this under my breath, but I failed to notice that he was standing right next to my desk just as he said it.
"I'm so glad you're excited about this, Ms. Kleins. In fact, why don't you talk to me after class?"
"I didn't do anything!" I exclaimed. We had only been in class for thirty minutes and I was already in trouble. It figures the science gods would try to punish me for wandering from their path of light.
"Yes yes, I know. But you have inspired me." I had a feeling that we would quickly come to learn that when Professor Shailer, that was his name by the way, was inspired it wasn't always a good thing. "That's enough of that for now, though. Shall we begin?"
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