The small, gray-haired woman opened the door as if to go in but halted for a moment. Thinking perhaps she was holding the door for me, I took a step forward just as she did, resulting in us both awkwardly trying to squeeze through the doorway. In an attempt to remedy the situation, I stopped and reached over her head to hold the door that was now starting to swing shut. I hoped to fool her into thinking that I was just trying to hold the door for her, but by the look on her face I would say that she wasn’t so gullible. I sat down in a desk feeling like a total jerk.
It was just the two of us in the classroom for a few minutes. She pulled out her laptop and began fiddling around with it while I just sat there playing with my phone. A girl closer to my age joined us, followed by a guy in a green shirt who asked, “What class is this?”
Suddenly unsure that I was in the right place, I didn’t say anything hoping one of the other two would pipe up. This, of course, just made me seem like a jerk again because the student and I had made eye contact when he arrived and when he asked his question I just looked down at my desk as if I was too good to be bothered with his question. Apparently I like to ignore fellow students and make women hold doors open for me. I’m a real classy guy.
Another dude—highly loquacious—came in talking up a storm about how he had to walk clear across campus, asking what we thought Professional Considerations for the English Major was all about, informing us he wanted to be a lawyer and commenting on a class he took last semester that greatly shattered his perceptions on sexuality and gender. All of this was mainly one-sided and condensed to a five-minute time frame before he suddenly realized, “Where is the teacher?”
That was a good question. Class should have started three minutes ago and there wasn’t a professor in sight. Another good question: Where were the other students?
“When I signed up for this class there was only one spot left,” said the younger girl.
“Yeah, I was on a waitlist once,” I said quietly, to no one in particular.
“Yeah, I was on a waitlist once,” I said quietly, to no one in particular.
Just then a bald, skinny man in a gray suit poked his head in and asked which teacher we were waiting for.
“Santee,” replied the guy who couldn’t stop talking. “This is supposed to be English 3000. Once it’s been fifteen minutes we can leave, right? I bailed on a lunch date with friends for this class.”
“I’ll go to the English Department office and see if I can round anyone up,” said the bald man.
In the meanwhile we just sat and listened to the radio. Well, it seemed like the radio—it was just the one kid providing us with a monologue of every thought passing through his head. I just sort of tuned him out after a while.
At about twenty after a different man came in. Where the other man had been tall and lean, this man was short and squat.
“Good morning, everyone.”
“Good morning!” said the talker.
The rest of us just waited in anticipation for the news the round man was going to give us. Perhaps the class was cancelled, or the room was changed, or the professor was deathly ill in the hospital hanging desperately to her life by a thread.
“This class is only half a semester and you are all enrolled in Block B, which doesn’t start until October 18th. You will meet your professor and the rest of your classmates then. Have a good day.”
He walked out the door and we all sat there stupidly for a moment. The loudmouth checked his iPad to verify the news. "Sure enough. Block B. Well aren't we the bright, college students?" he said sarcastically. "Well, see you all in October!"
No comments:
Post a Comment