Trying to complete my last seminar, teaching two classes as part of my assistantship, and taking on two more at the local community college was a challenge, but by the third week I was already in a comfortable routine. Almost too comfortable.
The community college kids were a different breed. Grad school at a private school is challenging, and teaching private school undergrads is equally challenging. It's not because they are smart, however, but that they think they are smart. And they've been able to afford the fuckups they've experienced in life. When they can't bully their way out of a fuckup, they attempt to buy their way out. With cash or other things. I seem to have a fair share of sexy undergrad women in my classes and when they fuck up, I don't take cash. Guys, well, they are another story all together. But that's for another time.
So this different breed. Where the private school kids seem to have a handle on buying their way out of shit, the community college kids are terrified of their teachers. At least their first quarter or two. Terrified may be a bit overboard, but until a rapport is built, they hold them in high esteem - something private school kids don't do. Then there are a few who could give a fuck less and really should be in high school, but I don't get to make that call. I just get to teach basic composition.
On Tuesday night, Katrina came to my office hours, which are at 8PM, after class gets out, until 9PM, when they close the building. Katrina is a "returning student." She took a few years off, found that being from a small town life didn't have much to offer her, and moved to the city. She wasn't a bombshell, but she was really cute and had a nice little body, you just wouldn't know it right off because her style of clothes was really casual and the opposite of tight and trendy. Thursday night, though, Katrina was a mess. She'd bailed on the last hour and a half of class and thought she needed to explain things.
She took tissue from my box and started to talk about her ex, I wasn't interested in why she left. I'd been flirting with her and checking her out since the first week of class. As a teacher, you have to flirt differently, and based on my record I've always assumed my intended playmates have... gotten it. Katrina was no exception. Here she was telling me shit as if I was dating her, rather than teaching her, and she just kept going on and on and on.
"Look, the guy sounds like an ass," I said, trying to remember what she was talking about as I looked at her beautiful bare knee. She was wearing a short skirt, a little short for the weather we'd been having lately, but I wasn't complaining. "Maybe it's time for you to just do you."
Katrina smiled at me, the first smile I'd seen since she started talking. "I needed to hear that, Mr. Kyle. You always know what to say."
It was funny hearing her say that, as we barely spoke. Only in class and in passing. Well, she'd added me to Facebook, but I didn't really have much to say to her except that a few pictures were cute.
"This may sound funny, coming from a student, but I could really use a hug right now Mr. Kyle," she said, hesitantly.
