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The moment Virginia Marjorie Curtis received her degree, she knew she would uphold Sam Gardner's words. She was going to make the best change in the world, working to the full of her potential. She always believed it started in the hearts and minds of young girls, limited by the bounds of their time as she was. It was going to be a challenge but Virginia was the kind to tilt her head up and dare to defy what's difficult.
So counting thirteen young girls in her expected class of twenty-five made her heart soar. She fidgeted with the corner of her folder, sneaking a glance at the open door. The classroom was empty, giving her time to write down the day's agenda on the chalkboard and organize her desk.
"Okay, you got this," she whispered to herself, tucking a soft curl behind her ear.
Her eyes widened at the number of students who outgrew her by a head or two at least. In the application process, she'd indicated wanting to teach freshman—ideal minds to nurture as they began the next phase of their young lives.
"Hi," she greeted cheerfully. "Welcome. Wow, uh, a lot of tall people, huh?"
They all looked around curiously. Virginia had taken the honor of adding her own personal decorations to the classroom, artwork she created and preserved that was hastily packed the night before. Her heart fluttered as they all whispered to one another. All but a little boy seated in the front who had a journal set in front of him.
The second bell, signaling the end of the passing period rang and Virginia scurried up to the front of her class. Her class. The notion was still unreal and she felt even prouder as she held up a pointer.
"Good morning young and bright minds," she greeted, feeling memories wash over her as those words sounded in the room. "Welcome to Intermediate Art. My name is Virginia Curtis, I am your teacher for this class. Any questions about Beginning or Advanced would be directed to Mr. Fullerton who will be subbing in sometimes. However, I can promise you that the course isn't gonna be an easy ticket. By the time you step out of this class, you'll live up to the name."
She pretended not to see the idle look on their faces at her miserable joke.
"Alright, before we get into the paints and clay, we have to understand the backstory behind some of the greatest masterpieces known to man," she retreated behind her desk and set up the projector. Sucking on her teeth, she waited for the screen to light up. Nothing. The class was silent, watching her hit the power button two times.
"After all, there's an artist behind the paintbru— can someone give me a hand?" she cleared her throat, pointing up to the ceiling mount. "I-I think the light's supposed to turn green."
"I got it," one of the taller boys chimed in, climbing on top of his desk that tottered dangerously. He pushed the small white button that was almost undetectable by eye. The orange light turned green and Virginia sighed in relief as the screen flickered purple.
