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I wouldn't need the notes, but I wanted to have them, just in case.
“Wh-what class?”
He blinked.
“You don’t even know what classes you’re TA-ing for?” He lifted a disbelieving eyebrow at me.
“It’s more a matter of who I’m TA-ing for, not what class.”
“So you specifically wanted to work for me?” He sounded even more skeptical then.
“Not you specifically… I mean, I’ve been aiming for this job since sophomore year. Professor Kingsley just never hired me…”
“So I’m the…rebound?”
The man certainly had a way about twisting my words.
“No,” I said finally, folding my arms over my chest, tucking my notebook close. “You’re certainly an accomplished professor and I’m excited to learn from you. I have faith that you’ll be a great replacement for Professor Kingsley. Plus, a TA job will look amazing on my resumé.”
His face relaxed at that.
“That’s the most honest thing you’ve said to me yet,” he said finally, shoulders slumping as if he was finally letting down his guard. “Let’s get this straight. You’re the only student I considered for this job, because Professor Kinglsey had nothing but good things to say about you, and I’ve been impressed with your writing so far, or, at least what Dora showed me. I think that the students in my class could definitely use some of your creative skills, and maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two in the process.”
Professor Harlo leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands as he looked up at me with a stern face.
“I don’t like polite bullshit, and I expect you to be early to every class. Not on time, but early by at least a few minutes so you have time to settle in before my students arrive. I also expect you to spend office hours here, in my office, between your classes where you'll grade papers and help prepare tests. I’ll send you an email with a complete list of my expectations.”
Well, this Professor Harlo was a total asshat, and I…liked that. I could appreciate the no-nonsense atmosphere. At least I’d have a compiled list of what he wanted me to do, so I wasn’t left guessing like I’d been with the whole coffee shirt debacle.
“Wait,” I paused him, putting my hand up. “If you only considered me for the position, why did you have me clean your shirt?”
He grinned.
“Why?” he asked with the slightest tinge of a British accent. “Because I’d spilled coffee on my shirt. Why else?”
“With all due respect,” I told him, frowning. “You’re an asshole.”
He laughed.
“Good. There’s that straightforward attitude I was missing,” he said, seeming pleased. “Now, you’ve got a class to get to, and I’ve got a lunch to scarf down before my next class. If you don’t mind, close the door on your way out.”
Just like that, he dismissed me.
“What class, Professor Harlo?” I asked, needing to know what classroom he expected me to be at.
“Creative writing, of course,” he said as if I was an idiot. “It’s the evening class, so you shouldn’t have an issue attending, correct?”
“Correct,” I agreed.
“I’ll send the room number and class details in the email I referred to earlier. Now, toodaloo.”
The man was probably, at least a little bit, insane.
And oddly enough, I liked it.
Without another word, I left his office and made my way toward my next class, sore feet and all.
Well, even if I didn’t learn anything, I was at least in for one heck of a semester with Professor Harlo.
