Enséñame Profesor - Teach Me Professor

Chapter 2 - The Cup

Sinclair POV

To say the professor was relentless was an
understatement. They, the students, became slaves of the subject. And Irene was taking no prisoner. One only had two options. Passed or failed.

Irene was a freaking slave driver. And to think Sinclair loved literature. All along she thought it was the easiest of amongst her major subjects but it was not.

The research, the debate, and the dissection of each piece were mind-boggling. On top of that, she had to make a thesis with one old poem, and from there a short story with a minimum of seventy thousand words. Basically, a novel. Who in their right mind would do that?

Her.

Her professor.

-Wait? What?-

Where did that thought come from? Well, she didn't mean it like that. She meant in a purely professional way.

This conversation with herself was getting old.
And Irene was looking at her again. Not in a perverted way. Nope. Not like that. Like Irene was thinking of something to say. And she was the dictionary.

"What you do think of Charlotte Brontë, Ms. Yuan?" Christ! Can't she call someone else?

The spice girls were already tripping at her. They saw her as a teacher's pet and just yesterday that Sandy girl cornered her in the bathroom to splash water on her. Typical, cliche bullies. Well, in retaliation, she dumped her OJ on the bitch's expensive top. So, they were even. For now. She mentally smirked.

What? She knew how to fight when cornered.
Irene cleared her throat to gain her attention. She had zoomed out once more. Her cheeks redden. What to say?

"I think Charlotte Bronte based her poems and novels on how she and her sisters survived adulthood. The way she spun her works that have combined moral realism with gothic views was a reflection of how they grew up. Poor but with morals. A good example of that is Jane Eyre written in 1847. Sir." She licked her
dry lips nervously. Irene's eyes pierced her even more. She tried to suppress her shivers.

Hoping it was the assessment Irene was looking for, she waited. Their discussion centered on famous novelists and authors. Today was no exception.

Uncomfortable from Irene's serious scrutiny, she looked away. Embarrassed all of a sudden.

Irene nodded and moved back to her generic classroom table.

"Great, Ms. Yuan. Before we go -- I know all of you are excited, frat party and all that -- please find time to read Shirley this weekend. Exams on Monday."

Everyone groaned from the announcement. It was not surprising to her anymore. They had been doing this for a month now. Every Monday was exam day. Yehey!

-Sarcasm once more.-

"You're dismissed. I was a frat boy once so I will be kind to you on a Friday night. Ms. Yuan get your paper before you go."

No! She didn't want to be near her. Irene smelled so good, she will have nightmares later.

-Really, Sin. Nightmare?-

-Okay. Wet dreams. Happy?-

With small timid steps, she approached Irene's table. People were filing out of the room. The two of them were the only ones left behind.

She glanced at the paper Irene was holding. Damn! She got an A+.

"I like how you interpreted To Celia. Just like what I did back in college." Irene murmured. She shuffled on her feet. Eyes cast down. She blushed at the compliment. Uncomfortable with Irene's undisguised appreciation. To be compared to her accomplishments was bliss. She was an expert.