Page 15 of Fundamentals of Being a Good Girl
The students at the back huff and loudly gather their things before moving down. One girl with fading blue hair that looks like it’s been soaked in chlorine crawls over four rows of seats because she can’t be bothered to walk to the end of the aisle. She’s really matching the energy of her fleece Winnie the Pooh pajamas, which I can appreciate. Another girl refuses to move while she taps away on her phone and the guy behind her is so dead asleep that I wonder if he just spent the night after a class yesterday evening.
While I plug in my laptop and dongle (what kind of Silicon Valley perv came up with that name?), I go over a few reminders. “Don’t forget that next week I’ll need your topics for our constitutional amendment project. You are free to work in groups of two to three or by yourself. Choose wisely, because groups will be uniformly graded.”
A quick glance at my class tells me which students are eager to pair up while some of the quiet ones sink down into their seats to avoid getting cornered.
“Professor,” says a guy in the second row, “is that really fair? If you do the project alone, you’re doing the work of three people and then if you’re in a group of slackers, everyone else is getting credit for your hard work.”
A few nod along with him.
“I hated group projects during undergrad,” I tell him as I walk out from behind the lectern and hop up onto the desk, which looked more graceful in my head than it actually is despite the help of my sensible two-inch heels. “But I wouldn’t have known that if I didn’t try it. I’m not saying that you need to work with a group of classmates to know if that’s your speed, but I am saying that you should consider the structure of this class as important as the material itself.”
He crosses his arms, and his eyebrows lift up to his hairline.
“Think of this as natural selection.”
“Wait, we’re getting dropped?” someone asks.
Sweet, sweet babies.
“No, no. Imagine you as a person, with all your traits and quirks, are being stirred in a pot. The longer you’re in the pot, you’ll find that the ingredients will either dissolve or remain if they’re hearty enough, right? You’ve been simmering in a pot since birth. College turns up the heat. So think of this decision as a chance to figure out if you’re A, a group project person, B, a lone wolf, or C, a lone wolf with no backbone who can’t say no when approached by a group and will learn the valuable life lesson that is the power of no.”
The guy huffs out a sigh, but I notice a few other students leaning forward, their interest piqued.
“Does that answer your question, Mr....”
“Jordan Mallory.” He peers around at his classmates. “And before any of you assholes ask, I’m working alone. I’m not about to sit around and wait for someone else to do the work I’ll get stuck doing anyway.”
A girl in the front row rolls her eyes and then swivels around. “Don’t worry. None of you are missing out on anything. The classroom isn’t the only place Jordan doesn’t wait for other people to finish.”
A low chorus ofooooohs rolls through the auditorium and I am immediately nostalgic for a time when I was showing up to class in yesterday’s clothes. Back when Gentry was just the irritating upperclassman who I found to be both suspiciously charismatic and deeply attractive.
We move on to talk about federalism, and in the last fifteen minutes of class, the collective sleepiness finally wears off and the students are in a heated debate over whether or not marijuana should be federally legalized.
The class is so involved that no one even notices when we go three minutes over. That is, until a man in a tweed vest and dusty-looking corduroy pants walks in and says, “Class dismissed. Everybody out.”
My jaw drops, hackles rising, and my temper goes straight to my quickly reddening cheeks. “Excuse me,” I say, but my class has already heard those magic words and they’re disappearing like it’s the Rapture.
The girl in the fleece Winnie the Pooh pajamas stops by before I can storm over to the man who I now recognize as Dr. Wallace, the resident expert on Eastern European politics.
“Hey,” she says without making eye contact. I take a deep breath and force my blood pressure to ease up. “That was pretty cool. My brother got picked up on the wrong side of the state line for having weed in his car. He didn’t even realize he wasn’t in Missouri anymore. He had a warrant for an outstanding speeding ticket, so they arrested him over a holiday weekend and he couldn’t see a judge for three days. He ended up losing his job at Tanner’s Bar and Grill after no-showing on his shifts. He has two kids and a pregnant wife.” She shakes her head.
I grimace. “Ugh, I’m sorry. It’s Whitley, right?”
She looks up then and nods, giving me an almost smile and a half-hearted wave before slipping out the door.
When I turn around, Dr. Wallace has already closed my laptop and set my materials on the desk in a haphazard pile. Fucking prick. The man is the definition of entitlement. He’s every reason why I think tenure isn’t always a good thing and why I am very much doubting my decision to dive headfirst into academia.
“Dr. Wallace, I don’t think your class starts for another nine minutes,” I say.
He glances at the heavy gold watch on his wrist and snorts. “And your class ended six minutes ago. I have patiently waited outside of this room for the first two weeks of the semester, but enough is enough, Mrs.—”
“ProfessorKowalczk,” I say as I stuff my papers and laptop into my tote bag.
“It wouldn’t hurt for you to learn some respect for your fellow faculty. Especially those of us who are teaching more advanced courses that might require the full fifteen minutes between classes to properly prepare.”
“Right.” I’ve got this bag of dicks’ number, and now that I do, I look forward to spending the rest of the semester getting under his skin with a smile on my face. “I am so incredibly sorry, sir.” My voice is high and fluttery. “How careless of me to run over my allotted time. And especially when you must prepare for a class with such complex concepts. I bet you use all the ten-dollar words during your lecture.”
His brow furrows. “I do have quite the extensive vocabulary.”
