𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑴𝒖𝒔𝒆

1- 𝑽𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒂

The class buzzed as I walked into the room; many students were gossiping about who got the latest boyfriend, and others were drawing in a sketchbook. Just any class that I have taught for years, they all share the same thing: a dream.

I made my way to the front of the class, many gone quiet, but others were still talking. I soon cleared my throat, and many quickly turned and straightened up their postures. I soon spoke, my voice echoing in the now quiet classroom.

"Welcome to Modern Art History," I began, my voice carrying through the room, calm yet sharp as a blade. "If you're here to learn about pretty pictures, you're in the wrong place. This course is about the ideas that shaped art-the way it challenges disrupts, and makes us uncomfortable. If you want to be good artists, you need to be willing to risk comfort for meaning."

I looked around the room to see if anyone knew what I just said. Many of the students were young some in their late twenties.

"Now pull out a sketchbook and turn to a page-". Before I could finish, a girl quickly ran in. She looked shuffled and out of breath. Her chest rose up and down. She wore a loose, olive-green sweater with slightly rolled-up sleeves, its soft fabric falling just below her waist. Paired with it were high-waisted, dark-wash jeans that hugged her frame, adding a touch of structure to her otherwise relaxed look.

Around her neck hung a simple silver pendant-a small, abstract shape. On her feet were black ankle boots, slightly scuffed, giving her the air of someone who valued practicality but cared about her style. Her dark curls tousled waves that cascade down her shoulders. With a few strands framing her face. The overall effect was understated, yet there was an edge to her look that spoke to her creativity and hinted at a sense of quiet confidence.

"I am so sorry, Ms Hayes. I didn't mean to be late, please. I am sorry I disturbed your class, please," the girl begged. I rolled my eyes and sighed at her this will put a hold on my activities for today.

"What is your name?". The girl caught her breath and looked frightened like I had punished her or something.

"R-Reese Ma'am"

I picked up my attendance sheet and looked down from it, and I saw the name.

Reese Persinger

The name suited the girl. I put down the paper, marked her tardy, and looked back at her. Everyone was staring at her, some laughing quietly, others looking angry that she disturbed the class.
"Well, Ms Persinger, be on time. This isn't high school anymore. If you want to pass this class, the main thing is to be on time now. Take a seat and pull out a sketchbook". I reprimanded the girl. She looked down, embarrassed by what I said. She made her way to a seat and did as she was told. I looked back at the rest of the class many now waiting for my instructions.

"This is your first lesson I have seen many of you are talented artists skilled in different ways of art. Art, real art, isn't about flawless brushstrokes or perfect form," I said, my voice steady. "It's about capturing something alive-something that moves you, something that pulls you toward it even when you're not sure why."

My eyes wandered around the room, seeing if anyone was carrying my words. I made eye contact with Reese. She was writing down, I guess, what I said, and she was focused intensively on me.

"I want you guys to find a muse. This will be your first project. This will be my first impression of you as an artist. A muse isn't just a person. It's someone-or even something that inspires you, that reveals parts of yourself you didn't know existed. It's a mirror, and sometimes it reflects things you'd rather not see."

Many students were writing and taking notes of all that I said I was impressed with my class. I looked back over to Reese, who stared at me, her blue eyes never leaving me.

"Now, this project won't be easy, especially finding a good muse. This will be a huge percentage of your grade. I admit I ain't an easy teacher, but if you do your work and submit it on time, then you will get a good enough grade to pass." I finished what I was saying and soon walked over to my desk and sat down.

Getting ready to tell them what to draw in their sketchbook when a voice spoke up.

"When will this be due Ms Hayes?"

It was Reese. She had her hand raised, waiting for my response.

"Well, I say a few months. This is a big project, after all". She nodded her head and put her arm down.

"I want you to draw whatever you want. Let me see what you are good at. I wanna see how far I can go with this class".

After several minutes of the class was over, the bell rang, and many began to pick up their stuff and leave.
I watched as many talked about what their muse would be, which I was happy about. I like students taking my class seriously.

Then someone was right in front of my desk. Reese is the first day, and I feel like I've seen her all year.

"Is there something you need Reese?"I asked her gaze looking at me intensely.
She fidgeted with her books as they were in her arms.

"Ms Hayes, I do wish to apologize again. I'm sorry I was late. You see, I got lost, and I couldn't find your class until later". She apologized she looked quite upset about her being late. She seemed like a goody two shoes like she had never been late in her life.

I leaned back in my chair still maintaining eye contact. "It isn't a big deal, okay? Just don't be late again."

Reese quickly spoke again she was fidgeting more. "But you said if I want to pass the class, the main thing is to be on time". She said I pinched the bridge of my nose frustrated with her.

"Look, Reese, I just made you an example in front of the class. I just wanted to scare you so you won't be late again and to show the class not to be late". I explained to her. She nodded her head, finally understanding what I said.

"Oh ok," she muttered. She soon said goodbye and left the class her footsteps soon disappearing from ear range.

"What a strange girl she like a tightly wound spring, so eager to please that she seemed to carry the weight of her expectations, and in that anxious energy, I saw a flicker of something both fragile and undeniably intriguing." I thought as I began to drink my coffee.