Hello Again, Sir {s/t - complete}

What About Now?: 23.

                "I'm sorry if these lectures are boring," I said loudly enough for the entire student body in the lecture hall to hear me. “This is what university is going to be like. You're here because these revision sessions are going to help you remember things through the year. Because I guarantee that some of you are going to lose the notes you've recorded in the past two months."

                An awkward silence lay thick in the room, with one person disturbing it to cough as discretely as they could.

                I looked around at the students from the ground, staring up at each row of chairs that we're placed in front of me, searching for all the second years in my class and in other classes.

                They all looked pretty bored to be honest.

                Apart from two people.

                One of those I expected to be enjoying watching me teach, on a large protector, animated power points, and the other, I didn't even expect to be here at all.

                Clicking the next slide on the mouse, I scanned past the first row, sitting right behind the computer and saw Kodie smirking, writing down numerous notes of what I was saying.

                Then the next couple of lines, waiting for them to finish writing down the things I had said to them, before they grumbled and I lectured them about being here, and university.

                But right in the middle, were locks of blonde hair that I couldn’t resist laying my eyes upon numerous times since everyone had sat down for the revision lecture.

                I don’t know whether Hanna was enjoying herself because of the fact that I was – in most of the students eyes – wasting my time, or because this was actually fun to her.

                Which I highly doubted.

                “Come on, guys,” I said enthusiastically looking up at the screen at William Blake’s biography. “You all did this last year, for AS. It can’t be that hard to remember. Really?”

                “We’re not doing poems this year, why do we need to remember the poets from last year?” someone asked. I scanned to find who’d spoken, but I didn’t know them. The blonde haired girl wasn’t a student from one of my classes.

                “Have you been to college every day this month?”

                “Yes.” She replied sourly, her brown eyes narrowing at me from where she was sitting.

                “Are you sure?”

                “Yes.”

                “Then you’ll remember that, whatever class you are in at the moment, you’ll be researching each era of poets.”

                “Wh—”

                “Oh god,” Hanna grumbled – I wasn’t looking at her, but I could easily tell it was her voice  speaking – “he means the romantic era and that. Are you really that dumb?”

                “You didn’t even let me finish what I was going to say!” the girl retorted angrily. “You think you’re so clever and yet you’re probably here because you’re failing, not here because you want to be.”