The Best Days

Chapter 6 Part 2

I spent the rest of the class period trying my best to blend in with the walls. This was quite hard to do because of my jarringly neon turquoise polo and my brown skin. But considering these things, I think I did a good job.

Professor Levy went on with the class introduction, outlining what he expected from us. And what he expected was somewhere along the lines of perfection. A few bold statements about if we didn't think we could handle it we should drop the class immediately.

His attitude might have seemed a little off putting and pompous at first glance but by the end of the class I felt this familiar feeling of determination set in. My top student senses were totally tingling. I would not be dropping this class and my papers were going to blow Andrew Levy's mind with their perfection!

No one likes a suck-up but it just so happens that this girl does not care what anyone has to say. So after class I lingered behind to do a bit of brownnosing. Not that many people stayed behind and the ones that did only asked self-explanatory questions that could have been answered by the syllabus. Professor Levy was obviously annoyed by the repetitiveness by the time he got to me.

All confidence I might have mustered up to talk to him quickly disappeared like the last of the hot water in the communal shower on my floor after 9 o clock.

"Professor Levy!" I managed to say, a bit overzealously.

"Jenna Jameson," he sputtered out, mimicking my tone of voice. My voice is so not that high. And he knew my name was Jenny. But I didn't correct him.

Instead I laughed it off awkwardly. You see, this is because I am not at all bothered by the mocking. My theory is that if someone takes the time out to mock you it means that they have listened and really care about what you have to say. 

At least that's what I tell myself.

"I would just like to let you know how enthused I am about this class," See my use of SAT vocabulary? "I absolutely, like, love to write."

Professor Levy widened his eyes and nodded his head like he was taken with what I was saying.

"Well, I'm so happy that you're enthused. I look forward to reading the work of someone who is so excited about writing." I couldn't quite tell if he was being sincere but I smiled big just in case.

"So tell me about your writing experience, Jenna." He put his hand to his chin like he was really interested.

Uh, writing experience?

I thought about one of my dismal little editorial articles I'd written in my high school paper about the lackluster cafeteria food. It was called 'School Lunch? Or School Punch?'. It was supposed to be a play on words of how school lunch was so gross that it made you feel bad like being punched...get it?

Yeah, I know...it sounded way better in my head.

Anyway, there was no way I was sharing that with my college professor. I would die of embarrassment.

"I don't have much writing experience. Actually, I've only had one thing published, like, ever...and it wasn't even very good... It was an article...school paper..." I rambled on for a bit. I could see Professor Levy let out a small breath of exasperation as his blue eyes unstealthily darted to the classroom clock just past my head.

"Oh, the school paper. The cornerstone of journalism." This man couldn't give two flying balls about what I had to say.

"Yeah..." But not really.