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With a harried glimpse at the clock, Professor Frances cleared her throat. “Thank you, Colin, for all that insight.” She leaned her headto see Allison around him. “We’ll make sure that Allison gets to say a few words first thing on Thursday. Sound good?”
Allison nodded. Perfect. She’d have time to plan a perfectly off-the-cuff introduction. And she’d be sure to demonstrate that she understood the definition ofbrief.
Professor Frances dismissed the class, and a handful of students rushed for her desk. Allison crossed her legs, getting comfortable. The three of them had a quick meeting scheduled, but clearly it would be a while before their teacher was ready.
Colin shifted his weight on the table so he could see Allison. “I thought that went well.”
“Sure, for those of us who got to say something.” She bounced her knee, causing the toe of her crossed leg to bump the table over and over.
“Right. Sorry about that,” he said. Then he grinned.Grinned.Allison wanted to use his face as a tennis ball. And a frying pan as the racket.
“I hope you accomplished whatever it was you were trying to prove.”
“I did, thanks.” His voice was placid, but Allison recognized the challenge in his gaze. That familiar glint in his hazel eyes that had been the precursor to every rivalry between them (and some of their best sex). “I wanted to make sure it was clear that both TAs have a background in the field.”
Background in the field.Ha! Allison had no doubt that Colin’s knowledge of medieval literature extended to whatever he’d been forced to read in high school and college, plus the results of a half-assed Google search.
Before she could test that theory, Professor Frances clapped her hands, stepping down off the dais toward them. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. A lot of students already have thoughts about the materials.” She paused at the end of their table. “I know you have your seminar shortly so Iwon’t keep you too long. I merely wanted to check in about your first recitations, in case you had any questions.”
Colin flipped open his laptop and clicked on the syllabus. Scrolling through it at a lightning speed that made Allison’s head spin, he said, “Take attendance, answer questions, get them talking, right?”
Their professor nodded. “I’d also like you both to offer one to two office hours a week, especially around exam and paper times. You can decide when and where. Let me know once you figure it out and I’ll post the hours for students.”
She tipped her smile toward Allison. “And while I appreciate the lesson plans you sent over this weekend, Allison, I trust you to decide how to engage your students. You don’t have to clear your class activities with me. I see recitation as a place to learn to participate in literary discourse without the pressure of sixty other people watching. Get them looking at the texts, talking about them, and asking questions. Those are your goals. How you get there is up to you. It’s a good chance to experiment and learn some things about leading a classroom.”
Allison’s cheeks burned. Though her face was kind and her voice encouraging, it was hard not to feel like Professor Frances was chastising her for overzealousness. She’d hoped sending her plans would be a sign of her preparedness and professionalism, but maybe Professor Frances wanted someone more laid back.
“If you have any other questions, email me. Otherwise, I look forward to seeing you both on Thursday and hearing about your first set of recitations next week.” With that, she disappeared from the room in a cloud of clinking jewelry and floral chiffon.
Colin’s gaze was heavy on Allison’s face. “What?” she demanded without looking at him. Instead she put serious effort into closing up her notebook, as if she were packaging the Holy Grail.
“You sent herlesson plans?”
Allison’s jaw tightened. “So?”
“Overachiever much?”
Yanking her bag from its place at her feet, Allison banged it on thetable. “There’s nothing wrong with being prepared.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his shit-eating grin on full display. She fought the urge to mock the mess of scribbles on his back. Or to grab her pen and add a few more to his forehead, his chin, his chest.
“What did you send?”
“A debate aboutBeowulf’s monsters. Which was the most monstrous?” Shrugging, she stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. In her mind, she was cavalier. Nonchalant. Apathetic. “I thought it might get them thinking about the themes. And discussions are always easier when you’re arguing.”
A new smile found Colin’s face. Smaller and closed mouth, but somehow brighter. Like he was recalling all their debates, how fun it had been to get worked up with someone else about the books you loved, even if they had all the wrong opinions (Colin had all the wrong opinions, always).
He picked up his laptop and started typing. His long fingers created a melodic rhythm on the chiclet keys. “That’s a great idea. I might have to steal it.”
His words reminded her of his little speech to the class. “Oh? Like you stole my school? My Ph.D. program? My field of study?”
He flinched as if she’d struck him, and the amusement in his eyes frosted over.
“Since when do you want to focus on medieval literature? What happened to H. G. Wells and Jules Verne and Isaac Asimov?”
He studied the blank surface of the white board. “Plans change.”
Allison stepped into his line of sight and crossed her arms. “What changed them?”
He sighed. “You.”
