My hands still and I set down the tickets I was glancing over, looking over the counter at him as he puts together someone’s meal.
He looks up at me and smiles that “trust me, little girl, for I know better than you” smile.
“It’s a good thing.”
My heart drops and my confidence, the confidence that I’ve worked so hard to develop the past few months, deflates.
My math professor is amazing. He’s tall and thin – everything about him is thin. He wears square glasses and carries a box of chalk in the pocket of his slacks. He laughs, and makes us laugh, too.
“What’s 8 times 17? No, don’t, just write ‘8 times 17’…”
I haven’t developed very extensive opinions of my classmates yet.
Jessica is nineteen and engaged.
Autumn is from California and hates being wrong.
One girl, she sat to my left on Wednesday, had a son at sixteen and wants to be an accountant.
There’s an adult – probably in his early thirties – who sits in the back of the class and asks all of the questions the younger group are afraid to voice.
They all have stories that I haven’t had a chance to discover yet.
My history professor is smaller and softer spoken than my math professor, yet she manages to command greater attention than he does. It’s impressive and incredible how she manages to keep a class of thirty-two so well behaved.
She’s very nice, but she’s also very firm.
“People kind of like the morbid things. Like Kennedy’s assassination – a lot of people are always interested when people are killed.”
I have a friend in that class. I’ve known her for years and I was surprised when she came in. I thought she would be further ahead of me.
It’s really great to see a familiar face in a place you feel uncomfortable in.
My English class is Thursday nights – once a week. My professor in that class is possibly my favorite. She’s fun and straight-forward and reminds me a lot of my biology teacher from high school.
I think being there until 9 in the evening might be worth it.
“Is there a level of cussing? Well, just don’t use the really crass ones…”
I was expecting to be terrified when I walked into that place; and, to be honest, I was.
But I haven’t had a single anxiety attack. I haven’t had to go cry in the bathroom. I haven’t had an unpleasant encounter with anyone.
I know it isn’t going to get any easier – it’s going to get more difficult as the semester progresses.
But I’ve got the first week down, and I think I’ll be okay from here.