Mittens Has Class

Chapter 10: All Cats are Brats, But Not All Brats are Cats

Lowering the textbook back to the lectern, Professor Young removed her reading glasses and surveyed the class. "So, what do you feel Marvell is saying here? What is the message of this poem?"

Almost immediately, a girl on the front row shot up her hand. "I think this poem is offensive." She said curtly. "Marvell is basically just trying to get laid and convince a girl to let him force himself on her." She made a disgusted sound. "It's really gross."

One of the guys in the class chuffed in an irritated way. "He spent most of the poem going on about how he'd wait for her 'ages', if she asked him to. He's just trying to say he's horny and hopes she is too and won't make him wait too long." There was a subtle spatter of chuckles at this, mostly from the males in the room.

"No, he's saying he wants in her pants and is trying to convince her to let him violate her." The girl persisted. "It's obvious the girl isn't interested in him, telling him no, but he's not accepting it. Just like a typical guy."

"There is nothing in there that even remotely says that." The guy argued back, rolling his eyes. "She's his 'mistress' or whatever, not some random chick. It's supposed to be romantic."

It was obvious the girl wasn't really accepting this version of things, her arms now crossed and leaning back in her chair dismissively. Professor Young's expression was neutral, seeming more glad to see students actually engaging in a dialogue, than worried about what their individual stances were on the subject matter. In the end, the point was to incite discussion, not come to a final consensus.

"Does anyone have a different take?" She asked when it became apparent these two were at logger-heads, scanning back over the class.

After a moment, Mittens raised her paw. There were a few snickers, probably at the odd cat-girl, all done up in a cute tiger-stripe tea-dress and matching thigh-highs, being about to spout some kind of weirdness. The teacher hesitated a moment herself, seeming unsure what to expect, but nodded for her to speak.

"He's giving her permission." She said, grinning a little.

The girl in front turned around to stare at her like she was stupid. "She doesn't need a man's 'permission' to have sex, weirdo."

Professor Young made a sharp sound, drawing the girl's attention to see the stern and unamused look on her face. "How about we let her say her opinion? You certainly got the time to state yours."

The girl just made a disinterested sound, but didn't persist. Professor Young looked back to Mittens. "Can you elaborate on why you say that?"

Mittens nodded. "Sure. The woman in the poem represents someone who is constrained by the social pressures of their time, when women were expected to remain virginal, well-behaved, and conservative until married. The writer of the poem, a fictional suitor, by the way, not Marvell himself, is saying that it is okay to let go of her inhibitions and seek out pleasures. Life is short and youth is fleeting. He's saying that it's okay to give in to her desires."

She picked up the book and read directly from the poem. "'And while thy willing soul transpires, At every pore with instant fires,'." She looked back up. "That suggests, to me, that she wants to let go and indulge in her desires, is aching to step out of the 'proper girl' mask that the social bonds of her time period enforced on her. He speaks of 'our' strength and 'our' sweetness. She wants him as much as he wants her, but society tells her that she is supposed to preserve her chastity. He's not just trying to seduce her; he's trying to liberate her."