Teach Me Love

Where Is The Passion?

Lena's POV

It's rather cold outside here at Boston. It's back to school time for me and the students at Harvard University, and even though I'm not usually excited about all that, this year I was because I had the permission to choose my own program and how I was going to teach it.

I had proved myself those past years, I followed the rules and so this year I told the bord that I would leave if I wasn't going to be able to run my class the way I want.

I'm rather respected here by now and so they didn't protest too much and just let me have my way. I wasn't one to be soft with my students, I was strict and very exigent, this was Harvard after all. Also, I teach ancient literature and history of literature, so I expect my students to be ready and discipline in my class, they have to prepare their course in advance and not walk in completely clueless, for I'll get them out without any hesitation. They choose to take this class, so they must be serious about it.

So, here I am, in the auditorium with my new students ready to begin. They were all silent as they should be and they are first year, so I guess they're a bit intimidated, and I wasn't going to make them at ease. They'll learn to deal with their stress and anxiety, for the world is full of just that.

Determination and passion are the only things that will serve them in this world, so they better get prepared right now.

I start talking to them about Mesopotamian literature, which is the most antique literature, when the door creaked loudly while being open by a young blond woman, that literally slammed it, making an even louder noise.

She is wearing some ripped jeans, with a tank top letting appear a bit of her belly and her bellybutton ring, black boots and bracelets all over her wrists. No bag, no pen, no notebook, nothing.

All the other students follow her with their eyes, as she proceeds to walk across the room with such attitude, chewing on her gum, her intense hazel eyes staring into mine all along. I'm pretty sure that the students are wondering if she's nuts, giving that I have the reputation of HATING latecomers.

The blond then takes a sit at the first row, looking defiantly right into my eyes.

"You may continue, don't mind me. I'm all ear." she says, crossing her legs with still so much attitude, that I literally had to hold myself not to slap her face and knock some respect into her.

That being unprofessional, I have other ways to knock some since into those so-called rebels.

"What is your name, young lady?" I ask as none dared say anything in the room. It's like we are both alone, in a dual. And that little girl wasn't going to ruin my class all year long.

"Stef. What is YOUR name?" she dares ask, making all the students gasp as the tension between us could be cut with a knife.

"I see, you're the kind who thinks that they're too good to attend classes. Let me guess, you are here, because otherwise, your scholarship is gone." I say, knowingly, for it wasn't the first time that a student takes my class just out of spite.

"Bang on! You're a smart one, huh?" she says very rudely as at this I have to stop arguing with her and lose those others' student's time. I have to keep going with my class, but I wasn't done with her.

"Which doesn't seem to be your case. Moving on!" I state, before breaking eyes contact with her.

If she thinks that she is going to do her little show each time she comes here, she's wrong, I'll break her first, she has no idea of who I am.

Stef's POV

This woman seems like a trip. She's the kind who thinks that the world owes them something, but it doesn't. She thinks she's superior, she's arrogant and if I have to be in her class, I'm certainly not going to be quiet like all those sheep in here.

They look at her like she was God or something. She isn't.

I came here to have a degreed, to meet real artists because in that business, only the contacts you have can get you somewhere. So, no need to say that I don't give a fuck about literature.

I admit that this professor has charisma, but she's just a teacher among others. Where is the passion? Where is the meaning? Only art can do that. Painting, acting, music even and a lot more, but literature?

Who gives a fuck about what a dead man wrote a million years ago? I don't. That doesn't mean I'm ignorant about it, but it's so useless. Why are we learning the past, when the only time we have is the present. Why? When what is waiting for us is the future.

She was talking and talking, and it was so damn annoying that I couldn't help but roll my eyes all along, and sigh deeply making her aware that she was boring as fuck. She is glaring at me so hard that I have the impression of being the only one in this class and I think I am about to find a bit of her character right this moment.

"Stef is for Stefanie, right?" Miss Adams asks as I smirk at her.

"You're a little genius, aren't you?" I respond sarcastically and I can tell that I'm getting on her nerve and yes, I like it.

"Stefanie, you, that seem to think that you know everything and don't need to be in my class, who is Enheduanna?" she asks waiting for me to answer and fail miserably.

"Well, she's considered to this day the first female author and poet. Some of her poems are written in the first person, making her the first author in history to use the "I". She's also mainly known for her hymns to the goddess Inanna. Anything else?" I reply, staring deeply into her brown eyes as I think I saw a little pinch of surprise spread over her face.

"That's what she did, that's not who she is. Can you tell the difference?" she says, as she is the one pissing me off now.

"Oh so you think, that being a princess, a title, is what she is? You think just because she's the daughter of a man who is a king, that mean she has to be reduced by that? Then okay, Miss Adams, she's daughter of king Sargon of Akkad, priestess of the god Sîn. Anymore question? Do you want me to do the lesson for you?" I ask very rudely for I despite people like her, she's so standoffish and I know from now that she's going to make my life hell on the campus, but I don't care, now, when I have something to say, I say it, no matter the consequences.

"I'll see you in my office at the end of the class Stefanie. And if you think this behavior is going to get you far in life, you're wrong. Being arrogant when you have no reason to be is making you repulsive." She dares say to me as I'm trying very hard to keep my calm and not go crazy.

"That makes two of us then." I respond very clearly to make sure she hears it.

But she ignores and continues her boring lesson for two painful hours during which I scrutinized her moves, the way she held herself. Truth be told, I can see how she's hypnotizing all those fools, she's a beautiful, strong looking woman. She's in charge and knows what she's talking about no matter how boring it is.

She must be thirty or something like that, but the way she speaks and thinks make her seem a bit older which just add to her presence.

She's confident for sure and quite authoritarian which is not surprising giving how presumptuous she is.

I'm not going to lie, she's hot as fuck, she's gorgeous and can probably have anyone at her beck and call just like that. But I just can't stand her sophistication, her countess appearance like we should feel lucky and grateful to have her as our professor. 

******

Hey there! New book is here. Hope you guys will enjoy it!