Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Once I had my laptop and a leather folio in hand, I locked my office and headed down the hall. I passed a few students I’d taught the previous semester and greeted them. Their giggles after I passed told me the extremely obvious crush they’d had on me last year hadn’t abated.
I shook my head. If they knew who I really was, what I was capable of, they’d think I was a monster, not someone they wanted to date. As if that was even an option, since I was gay and I didn’t date students. I didn’t really date at all. I had no trouble finding hookups when I wanted, but I didn’t need a relationship complicating my life. Family responsibilities and my career were enough to juggle.
I stepped into the classroom I’d been assigned and surveyed the students who were already in their seats. There were the usual eager-looking first-row students, likely premed majors intent on keeping a perfect GPA. One young man in the back row was catching up on his sleep, and a group of sorority girls were debriefing their evening while sipping their iced coffees. The room slowly filled up as the minutes to class time ticked down.
I opened my laptop and brought up the first slide in my introduction, which laid out my expectations for the semester.
Just before I introduced myself, a young man pushed the door open aggressively, sending it banging against the wall. Several students laughed, and he joined in, not looking the least bit embarrassed. He grabbed the door as it bounced back to him and pushed it closed, then took off his baseball cap and bowed to the class, winning applause from a majority, excluding the eager-to-get-going students in the first row.
“I hope you aren’t planning such a dramatic entrance every day,” I said.
He turned to look at me, and his eyes widened. Something about him was familiar. But where would I know him from? I hadn’t taught him before; I was sure of that.
He grabbed a desk to steady himself, and the young woman seated in it scowled at him.
My irritation was growing. “At least if you plan to be this disruptive, arrive earlier.”
He grinned, seeming to have recovered from whatever had startled him. What was that about, and why did I need to know so badly?
“Yes, sir.”
His mocking tone should have pissed me off, but it intrigued me. He intrigued me because he didn’t fit in a neat box. He looked like most of the frat boys on campus—dirty-blond hair, long on top, T-shirt and shorts, with the backward baseball cap he’d returned to his head. He was obviously used to drawing attention to himself and comfortable with it, but it seemed calculated instead of natural. He had a barrier around him. I recognized intentional distancing because I did it too.
“Take a seat,” I ordered.
He sent me a smile that I was sure melted most people he used it on and headed toward the back of the room.
He was going to be trouble. I knew that instantly. But in that moment, I had no idea just how much trouble he would be.
I introduced myself and continued my first-day talk about expectations, objectives, and an overview of the syllabus. When I asked if someone could give a concise explanation of what biochemistry was, I didn’t expect Troublemaker’s hand to shoot up. When it did, I couldn’t resist calling on him. I immediately saw disappointment in some of the eager students’ eyes. They’d survive.
I expected a joke or some stilted explanation. I assumed he just wanted more attention. But I needed to know. I needed another piece of the puzzle that might explain him.
“Biochemistry is the study of chemical processes that take place in living organisms, including the study of biomolecules like amino acids and proteins.”
I sure as hell hadn’t expected him to give a textbook definition with no humor included. He was intelligent and trouble. A lethal combo.
“Very good, Mr.…?”
“Alexander Hebert. But you can call me Alex.”
A young woman in the second row had her hand up. When I acknowledged her, she said, “Doesn’t biochemistry also include enzyme catalysts?”
I forced a smile. “Yes, you’re absolutely right.”
I moved forward to the next slide, which gave an overview of the syllabus. “As you’ll see, all the topics mentioned are included here.”
Thankfully, I’d taught the class several times before, so I was able to quickly rattle off the rest of my talk before dismissing the students early. Alex had me distracted. I wanted to hate him for that. I shouldn’t have paid attention to him at all. I should have called on someone else.
A student intriguing me because of the answers they gave, their understanding of the material, or their unique perspectives was one thing. A student making me personally interested, making me want to see how they’d respond if I pushed them… that was not good.