Benevolence

Chapter 2: Cruise Control

The eerie sound of chalk being dragged against the blackboard gnaws at something I have fought so hard to maintain throughout today's lecture: Peace. My migraine from yesterday hasn't eased up one bit, and Professor Laykin's nonstop blabbering is only amplifying the situation. Why couldn't she stick to using the projector?

She stands on her tiptoes, struggling to scribble an unfamiliar quote that would be legible to everyone in the room:

"There is no need for temples,"— she pauses, adjusting the chalk in her hand before going on her toes once more— "no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness."

- Dalai Lama

Spinning around to face the emotionless mass that surrounds her, she prepares to dismiss the class. Finally.

"For those of you who know me, you're aware that I usually end my lectures with a few words of wisdom." She pauses scanning the room. "This semester, I want to try something a little different."

Please don't.

"I'll be leaving this here, and I want you all to start writing bi-weekly journal entries, starting from today, about how this statement reflects in your everyday lives." She rocks on the balls of her feet with barely contained excitement, continuing her assault on the ticking time bomb inside my head. "Make it provocative. Make it depressing. Make it humorous. Make it relevant. Most importantly, make it personal. The best response will have the option of being featured in Brokers Literary Arts Magazine."

A surge of excitement courses through my veins, but I stop it in its tracks, pushing away the unwanted feeling.

"As for the worst response..." she continues. "Well, that lucky person will have the honor of reading it in front of the whole class, so that their peers can give them some constructive criticism." A mischievous smile plays at the corners of her lips. "So... I'd encourage you all to put your best foot forward."

Just when she has me convinced that she's done talking, she carries on, pacing in front of the spacious lecture room.

"By the looks on your faces,"— her eyes land on me— "you don't seem too keen on taking on this assignment. Why assign a quote response, when I can, instead, allow you to leave the room pondering over its importance? Well, over the past few years I've noticed a pattern... that my students haven't been taking the quotes seriously. Every time I'd share them, it would be followed by the impatient clicking of pens,"--she looks down at the boy in the front row-- "the eye-rolling,"-- she looks up at someone in the back of the class. "It saddens me, really, to see that my students don't appreciate my contributions, but I know that traditions can become a bit of a....bore."

"You think?" Whispers someone in the row behind me.

"Someone's in their bag," says a girl with knee-length box braids sitting at the end of my row.

" I assure you, this 'assignment' is for your benefit, and your benefit only." When she takes a deep breath, it's evident that she is trying to suppress her desperation. "I want this to be an opportunity for you all to absorb the essence of what is being said. They aren't just words of black of white, but they hold value in the lessons that they teach. Please...don't shy away from putting your all into these journal entries." Flinging back a few black box braids that have forgotten their place behind her shoulders, she clamps her hands together and delivers the moment we have all been waiting for. "Class dismissed."

Instantly, the sound of laptops closing, bags zipping, chairs swiveling, and jackets adjusting consumes the otherwise lifeless room. Making my way towards the exit, I spot Drew with that stupid boyish grin on his face, but before I can retreat, Professor Laykin's assertive voice draws me back to the front of the class.