#because while he could teach upper undergrade or grad students?

[void-tiger]

Potential subject for Professor Hob: Sociology

[megidonitram]

My stupid little Baldur's Gate 3 English Professor AU Headcanons

I mostly want an excuse to puzzle out people's qualifications and educational backgrounds for my silly little English Department AU

Astarion

Astarion has just always given me overwhelming "sensitive little gay child who had his spirit crushed by his wealthy conservative family" vibes. He has a pre-law Bachelor of English because that was the only socially acceptable way he could get a humanities degree. He had a breakdown in law school and switched to a history M.A. behind his father's back. After that, he sort of aimlessly collected upper-level degrees for a while because he didn't know how to do anything other than be a student. He eventually settled on a Ph.D. in comparative literature.

He mainly teaches upper-level courses (because he scares the freshmen away). His specialty is in British and European literature, and he sort of begrudges having to teach American lit (despite teaching at an American university). He's a tough grader, but he's technically the more accessible lit professor for non-English majors because he teaches with a historical/informational approach rather than a stylistic approach.

Gale

Gale went into college at age 18, thinking he was going to get a creative writing degree and become a famous fantasy author until one of his faculty advisors gently suggested he take a few technical writing courses, and he fell in love with rhetoric and the more analytical side of the English field. He worked as a student employee in his university's library, where he caught the eye of his supervisor, who helped him get into a Library Science program straight out of undergrad. That same supervisor became his mentoring professor, and then they got engaged suspiciously quickly after Gale got out of grad school. When that relationship fell apart, Gale couldn't really stay in the library field, so he went back to school and got a Ph.D. in rhetoric and technical communications.

He's the newest hire, so he's mostly stuck teaching the intro comps and the non-English department English classes (since writing, business writing, etc.) The only upper levels he teaches are grammar and style-focused. He's the only member of the faculty with a tech-writing background, so he is the most well-liked English professor among the STEM folks.

Shadowheart

I'm not really positive what Shadowheart would have done pre-grad school. She's the second most senior member of the department (behind Astarion), and I feel like she'd been in and out of a lot of toxic queer group living situations for most of her life. Her wife's a philosophy professor at a different university, and she ended up with a master's in poetry and a Ph.D. in contemporary literature because that university had a really good family scholarship program.

She handles the other half of the literature courses and upper-level creative writing courses. She's very big into the stylistic approach to teaching writing and literature, and she's known for assigning very strange, almost inscrutable readings (think starting with Sam Becket's Endgame and just getting weirder from there).

Karlach

Karlach actually doesn't have a Ph.D., and she's not interested in teaching college full-time. She's a middle school ELA teacher who took a position teaching intro courses so someone would help comp her master's degree. She hangs around teaching one or two classes a semester to have a little bit of extra money on the side.

She teaches intro comps and intro creative writing. She is a very warm and nurturing presence in the writing classroom, and she's incredibly beloved among students who've taken her classes.

Wyll

Wyll is a senior undergrad working on an English degree with a secondary certificate. He is captain of the fencing team and wants to be a high school teacher when he graduates. He's generally very much beloved by all of the English faculty, but especially Karlach.

He's probably going to end up with a teaching position at the same school as Karlach when he graduates, which would make teaching in middle school this AU's version of being in hell.

Lae'zel

Lae'zel's also a senior undergrad and a massive overachiever. She plays several sports, is double majoring in sports medicine and sports communication, minoring in English, and works part-time. She wants to be a sports journalist, but everyone around her is kind of quietly convinced that she's going to end up being one absolute bulldog of a street reporter.

[cosplayingwitch]

A Study in Dirt and Stars

September 30 Day Writing Challenge

Prompt: cloud/star gazing

Part one of the five part as-yet-unnamed series. (If you think of a name, let me know in the comments!) Each part will take place a good amount of time apart from each other.

Summary Star Wars AU with fem!reader and Poe Dameron as best friends/roommates (more?) and grad students- reader in archaeology, Poe in history/library science. In this part, the two get stuck when Poe’s old truck breaks down and they have to wait for a tow truck.

Triggers none, unless you have an issue with waiting for tow trucks or dirt/dust. Oh, they do swear too.

Tags: @make-me-imagine

Other tags: light angst, two idiots in love, mutual pining, would this count as angst?

The sound of shovels clanging together startled you out of your focus. You’d been reading up on bioarchaological research methods- something so boring most would fall asleep even thinking about it. You, however, find the whole thing fascinating, enough to dedicate your life to it. That sound was the announcement by your students that the day was done. Normally you’d have let them know this, but in that focus you’d lost track of time.

You shout “Nice work today everyone! Same time tomorrow!” even though you didn’t even notice their actual work. Hey, as long as they didn’t fuck anything up enough that it can’t be fixed, no one would ever know. 

The university held a field school for archaeology students every year, mostly upper level bachelors students and the occasional early masters students. Given your status as almost graduating from the masters program, you were easily chosen by your favorite professor to GA the class. Which meant, per your professor, you’d be the one in charge for day-to-day goings on. But if you succeeded at this, it’d be a great addition to your work experiences. Very helpful for getting a job in this field.

Which leads you to look around, seeing that your slightly early dismissal was taken advantage of by the students- they left the equipment strewn about the site without regard for how long it would take you to clean up after them. They’d be in for definite trouble in the morning, you’d make sure of it.

You heard the sound of truck tires coming down the dirt lane that was the only access point for your site. You look up to see your friend coming to pick you up. With your car in the shop- all that dust was not good for the engine- he was your only choice if you were to get to and from work.

“Hey there, Indiana. Discover the ark of the covenant yet?” shouted Poe from the driver's seat. 

“Not yet. Did you manage to run out of books in the library yet?” you shout back.

It was always like this between you two. You’d been friends since your freshman year when you took intro to anthropology together. For him, it was a gen-ed class; for you, it was the start of your career path. He was a history major, now working on his masters, like you. He had managed to get a job in the university’s library, though he would probably describe it like he had gotten a job at the Smithsonian. But joking between the two of you was more natural than having normal conversations. One year, he decided to get you a hat for your birthday, one that was suspiciously like that worn by the movie archaeologist. From then on, he called you Indiana instead of your name as an inside joke between the two of you.

You wouldn’t ever tell him- but you kind of liked it.

“Can’t leave quite yet, Mr Librarian. The students left this place a mess, and if Professor Solo decides to pop by the site in the morning with it looking like this I’d lose all hope of ever getting a job.”

“So? I can help! As long as these aren’t some kind of state-of-the-art technology shovels.” he teased. You could tell, he just wanted to get home. And even with the both of you working together, this could take a while.

About two hours later, once everything was packed up for the night, Poe went to start the truck so you could get home to your shared apartment (who better to be roommates with than your best friend?). And it wouldn’t start. He tried again, and again. Nothing. I guess even momentary exposure to this dust could mess with an engine, you thought. Or maybe his twenty year old truck had just finally kicked the bucket. You’d teased him about that truck for a while now, always joking about it someday just giving up and leaving him stranded somewhere. 

Of course, you’d always imagine yourself as coming to his rescue, not being stranded with him. 

“I guess you were right about it up and dying someday.” admitted Poe. “So are we walking or what?”

“It is getting dark, but it will take forever to walk back to the university. We could call a tow truck? Sit around waiting until it gets here?” you suggest. “It gets so beautiful out here. Without as much light pollution, the stars really shine bright.”

Poe was never one to turn down an activity that involved astronomy. That was his ‘secret’ hobby. He told you once that his dream when he was a child was to travel among the stars, but with that not accessible to him, the best he could do was study those who made the advancements in astronomy. 

The tow truck would take at least an hour, the lady from the dispatch center told you. It was the bad luck of location and calling on a busy night. You didn’t mind, it was more time to spend with your best friend.

“It’d probably be more comfortable to lay in the back than in the dirt.” suggested Poe. You knew that wasn’t the only reason he suggested it. He also hated getting dirty, so the idea of laying directly in recently disturbed dirt had to be unthinkable to him. (This was another thing you teased him about often.) However, this time he did have a slight point. If anything, it would probably stretch your back out more than the ground could.

With both of you perched on the end of the truck bed, you watched the stars together. Poe pointed out the various constellations. Even though you knew most of them already, you let him continue because you knew how happy it made him. Not much of a sacrifice to keep your best friend/roommate, you thought. You zoned out while he started rattling off facts about famous astronomers. He’d be the one to know all this- astronomy+history would always mean Poe would know about it.

You thought about how nice this was. The two of you laying back, talking, nowhere to be until the morning. You could get used to this.

Every so often, you’d chime in with a fact about the mythology behind the names of the constellation. Poe assumed you knew these from your anthropology classes during your undergrad. Truth was, you’d learned them for him. That way you had something to add to the conversation when he was discussing astronomy, which was frequently.

It was inevitable that the tow truck did eventually show up, and your night of stargazing would end. It never seemed like two hours had gone by with just you and Poe laying there together. And just like that, your evening together was over.

When you eventually get back to your apartment, it’s past midnight and all you want to do is take a shower to get all the dust, dirt, and sweat off of you from that hell of a day you had yesterday. “Maybe I’ll call Professor Solo in the morning, see if he can take over for the day.” You think. After all, shouldn’t he be teaching his own class?

And maybe, if by some miracle your car was ready to be picked up before noon, you could return the favor by driving your boyfriend best friend to work.

You stop yourself in your tracks. God. Did I just think what I thought I did? 

Yeah. After a day like that, your brain had to be at least a little scrambled, right?

At least you didn’t say it out loud. Poe would never stop teasing you about that.

When the two of you got home after midnight, Poe was beyond exhausted. Luckily, he wasn’t scheduled to work until after noon tomorrow. Or, with it being after midnight, would that be today?

Whatever. I just need sleep, Poe thought.

But he couldn’t sleep that night. (Morning? Every time Poe thought about that it made his head hurt.) He was too wrapped up in thinking about the night you just spent stargazing together. Just laying there, talking, sharing space facts and constellation myths.

He just couldn’t get past the relationship the two of you had. No pressure, no one constantly asking when they’d get together already. Just two grad students, hanging out and having a good time together.

Maybe, Poe thought, he could even be glad his car broke down while picking up his girlfriend best friend from work.

Wait, Poe though. Not my girlfriend, my best friend. I’m not ruining our friendship because I had one thought about her that way. Besides, he continued, who knows if she’d even like me that way.

Poe did fall asleep a little while after that, but not before sending in a request to his boss for a sick day. There was no way he’d get enough sleep to go to work tomorrow.

Author Note- I appreciate any comments/likes/reblogs if you would! Also, this is my first fan fiction published on Tumblr, so please be nice (and leave constructive criticism if you have any). I’ll probably also post this to Archive of Our Own at some point, but for now it’s only on Tumblr.

I have to say, I do enjoy writing for my two idiots here. Next chapter/part will be published on 9/10, so come back for that if you like this. And if you really like this, message me to be tagged in the next part.

[spookysanta]

The TA. - one. (c.e, h.c.)

Summary: she just wants to make a good impression. clearly, she’s made more of an impression on the two of them.

Pairings: Professor!Chris Evans x Black!Reader, student!Henry Cavill x Black!Reader

WARNINGS: swearing

updates will be sporadic because it’s a wip, but here’s part one! enjoy! :)

UNEDITED

****

 To Whom it May Concern:

Good morning. My name is Dr. Christopher R. Evans and I’ll be your supervising professor for section D346-0 of Chemistry class for the Fall semester. I’m sending you this e-mail to introduce myself as well as get to know you a bit before classes start next week. Would you be willing to meet me in my office (Franklin Hall, 3210) this Wednesday at around 3 p.m.? I’d like to go over the syllabus as well as your requirements as my TA.

Please let me know if that time works well for you.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Warm regards,

Dr. Christopher R. Evans, D. Sc.

(310) 555-3984

  *** 

Professor Evans:

Good morning! It’s nice to hear from you. I was in the process of getting your contact information to introduce myself. Thank you for taking me on as your TA, also—I appreciate that you’re giving me a chance. I’ll avail myself on Wednesday to meet with you at 3 p.m., I don’t want to change your schedule on my behalf. I can also provide you with my class schedule if you’d like so that you have my availability when you need to meet with me.

I’m excited to be working with you this semester!.

 Best,

(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

  ***

“Hi, my name’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Is Dr. Evans around?” She entered the lecture hall, approaching the podium where another professor was packing up her things. “I’m his new TA.”

“Yes, his office is through that door. Go in, make a left, and it should be the first door on your right.” The professor instructed, “He should be in there.”

“Okay. Thank you, ma’am!” she hurried across the room and pushed through the door, following the professor’s instructions and finding his classroom much easier than she had initially. She knocked on the door to his office. “Dr. Evans?”

“Come in.”

She opened the door slowly. She found him at his desk, typing on a computer. He paused for a moment, looking up toward the doorway with a small smile.

“Hi. You must be (Y/N).” he stood and crossed the small room stalking over to her and offering his hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Great to meet you as well, Dr. Evans.” She shook his hand eagerly. This was her first professional job, and well…it’s helpful to have him as her boss.

Mainly to look at, but that’s beside the point.

“Oh, please. You can call me Chris.” He waved her off politely. “It’s just you and I here.”

She cleared her throat. “Okay.”

He made his way back to his seat behind the desk. “Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the chair that sat on the opposite side of the desk.

She sat down tightly with her hands flattened under her thighs—she’s a picker.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head tightly. “Nothing.”

He noticed that her face read differently than her words were saying. She looked almost uncomfortable, unsettled. “Are you sure?”

“This is just my first TA job so I’m a bit nervous,” She was almost hesitant to tell him the truth. She rushed out, “hopefully that doesn’t compromise my position.”

“Not at all! In fact, I think this is one of the easier classes to TA for, but maybe I’m biased.” He chuckled. “So, with that said, let’s go over your requirements. Hopefully I can put your mind at ease, okay?”

“Okay.” She smiled politely, trying to make herself relax but failing because Dr. Evans—Chris—was quite different that was she thought he would be. He was tall, built, and had the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen.

She’d assumed that he would look like Ebenezer Scrooge from the way her friends said he ran his class. By their record, he was a strict guy—very unwavering with deadlines and course policies, sticks to his syllabus schedule, assigns a ton of work, and has an even stricter attendance policy.

But they also said he was nice, which was hard to come by with professors in this field. They could tell he was a good person deep down and liked what he taught but he was a hard ass.

And by her analyzation, that was true.

His desk was quite neat and polished; it smelled of air freshener in the room; there weren’t any papers scattered about—which she was thankful for, because she cannot work with people who were unorganized—and, most notably, there weren’t any kind of photos hanging up. It was hard for her to determine whether he was a bachelor, or a married father that just kept things private.

Not that it mattered…but she wanted to know.

“So,” he turned one of his monitors to face her so that she could see his screen. “here’s the syllabus. It seems like a lot, but I swear, it isn’t.” he chuckled.

She hummed in response, beginning to read the lengthy document in her head as he spoke.

“Basically, your job will be to help me grade quizzes, labs, exams, and other assignments. You’ll also be required to proctor exams; I have another TA, Henry—he’s a graduate student—that will come in on exam days and proctor with you.”

She thought for a moment. “So, if I may ask, what will you do?”

“Teach the class.”

“Well, I know that. I just meant…it seems like a lot for me to do, and I’ve heard about some professors on campus having their TAs run the class.”

“Oh! Definitely not. Look, you seem great, and I have a feeling we’d get on well, but there’s a specific way I want my material taught so that’s not something you’d have to worry about.” He reassured her, noticing her body begin to relax. “What I will say, is there is a lot of content in my class, but the major graded assignments are few and far between, if that makes you feel better.”

She cocked an eyebrow.

“The class is mostly lab-based. You’ll be grading lab prep work, mostly—then comes the occasional homework or quiz, and exams.”

“Oh, okay. That makes more sense.”

He nodded. “Good.”

He scrolled down further into the document, showing his class policies.

“Now, these, I can’t break on.” He sighed. “I’m sure you’ve heard that I’m a strict guy.”

“What?” she replied incredulously. “No!”

He wanted to laugh. He could tell she was analyzing him, and she had to have heard something about him before the two of them met. “Well, it’s because a lot of the precautions are for the safety of us and the students.”

She scanned a random sentence on the page that read:

Students are required to be fully clothed on lab days—no t-shirts, ripped clothing, or closed-toed shoes.

10 points will be deducted for wearing clothing that does not meet the above dress requirement. More than one violation on the lab dress requirement will result in a deduction from the LAB grade.

Yikes, she thought, he’s not joking around.

She found it understandable nonetheless—she imagines it would be difficult to have a completely safe lab in a stuffy room while it’s still hot outside.

And she’s heard that a lot of the laboratories on his side of campus don’t have air conditioning, which was quite unfortunate this time of year.

“The dress policy is the most heavily enforced one.” He shrugged. “I can’t be held liable for students’ recklessness during labs.”

“Has the dress code been an issue previously?” she asked.

“Not for me, but I know it’s been one for the department, so I’m just tryin’ to keep my name off the “injury list”.”

She nodded in understanding.

“I think that’s pretty much it as far as the basics are concerned. I’ll send you a copy of my syllabus and calendar for the semester, as well as your contract.” He turned the monitor to face him again, typing quickly on his keyboard. “Oh! And I should send you Henry’s information, too.”

“Who’s Henry again?”

“Henry is a graduate TA. I’ve had him in my classes for a couple of years, and he’s a great student. I think he worked in the library over the summer, so you may know him.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

“Well, he’s a great person to know, not just for my class, but for your upper-level math and science classes.” He gushed. Clearly, he really liked having this “Henry” as an assistant.

“Okay, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“Great. And if you have any questions, shoot me an e-mail or a text and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Alright.” She replied simply.

He stood, holding out his hand again. “I’m looking forward to working with you this semester, (Y/N).”

She took his hand, this time relishing in the softness of his skin and the firmness in his grip. “I am, too.”

**

Later that day, after she’d completed the last assignments for her summer math class, she checked her e-mail’s inbox and found two messages from Chris and another from Henry, the godsend of a grad student.

***

 From: Dr. Christopher R. Evans, D. Sc.

Miss (Y/L/N)—

I hope this message finds you well.

Attached is my syllabus and class calendar, as well as your contract.

Please read through all of these. Sign the contract when you’re ready and e-mail it back to me at your earliest convenience.

Regards,

Chris

***

 From: Dr. Christopher R. Evans, D. Sc

Miss (Y/L/N)—

I meant to send you Henry’s information as well:

                Henry W. D. Cavill

                Phone: 316-555-2015

                E-mail: hwdc@northeastern.edu

Please message him at your earliest convenience. Like I said, he’s a great person to know!

Regards,

Chris

**

 She replied a quick “thank you” before continuing through her inbox.

***

From: Henry W. D. Cavill

Hi, (Y/N)! It’s nice to “meet” you, I’m Henry.

Chris has told me that you’re the new undergrad TA! That’s pretty impressive, honestly—you’re one of four undergraduate TAs in the entire Sciences department. Anyway, I just wanted to send you this e-mail to introduce myself and let you know that if you need anything, I’m always available. I worked in the school’s library over the summer so if you need me immediately, that’s usually where I spend my free time nowadays.

I’m excited to work with you this semester! Maybe we could grab coffee and get to know each other better before classes start next week? Let me know.

Hope to hear from you soon!

Best wishes,

Cav

**

“Cav?” she read aloud in disgust, “What the hell kind of a nickname is “Cav”?” She hoped that he didn’t expect her to call him that because that was stupid.

At any rate, she could tell that he was much more laid back than Chris, which she was bound to enjoy. As nice as Chris was, she could tell that he was a bit…uptight. Henry, on the other hand, seemed more laid back if she used “Cav” as a form of evidence.

She could tell that he was a bookworm, too, because no-one—no-one she knew, at least—stays in the library unless they had to, or just liked reading.

Clearly he was a different breed.  

She opened a new message to send a quick reply to his.

**

 To: Henry W.D. Cavill

Hi, Henry.

It’s nice to hear from you as well. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you!

I’m free tomorrow afternoon if you want to meet at The Bistro for coffee.

Let me know if that works for you.

Best,

(Y/N)

**

 There. Sweet and simple.

Don’t be confused, either—she wanted this position. It would open some doors for her down the line, especially if she can get on Chris’ good side like Henry clearly has. She just hated formalities. The emails, the “talk to you soon! ”s, the “hope you’re well! ”s… it was too high-strung for her.

She is, though, determined to start everything on a good foot. So she’ll be polite, she’ll wish them well, whatever—she just wanted to ensure that her success as an undergrad student wouldn’t be hindered or jeopardized by her desire to be casual with who’s really her boss and co-worker.

**

The next day, she mustered up the courage to throw on clothes and meet Henry at The Bistro, a café in the main square of the campus. She decided to dress nice, not entirely sure who she was meeting and wanting to make a good impression. Because “Cav” seemed like a decent guy, but you never know.

Honestly, she wanted to cancel but she knew that wouldn’t look good.

She stepped through The Bistro’s doors, the cold air practically smacking her in the face. Normally she would despise the cold, especially on a day like this where it wasn’t too hot and not at all humid; but today, she was grateful for the cold air that enwrapped her frame that was dressed in a black blazer and matching slacks.

She sent a message to Henry letting her know that she was there and sat at a table by the window.

Then she waited.

Ten minutes, then twenty, then thirty.

After forty minutes passed, she gathered her tote, phone, and keys, and made her way to the front door.

Before she could get to the door, a figure bumped into her, her body colliding with his hard chest. “Oh, shit, sorry!” the mass of flesh exclaimed, “I’m running late for a meeting and I didn’t watch where I was going.”

Her eyes met his as she took a step back. He was tall. His long brown hair was brushed behind one ear, cheeks flushed and pale, brown eyes wide.

He was cute.

“Wait,” she replied, “are you Henry?”

“Yeah…so?”

“So?” she glared at him. “I’m (Y/N).”

His eyes widened even more, as if that were possible. “Oh! I’m so sorry I’m late. My car broke down and I ended up having to walk here.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But listen, if you’re still free, I’d love to still talk with you.”

She didn’t have anywhere to be, so why not? “Sure.”

He let out a breath. “Thank you.”

The two of them sat down at the table she picked, him slugging his shoulder bag off his body and onto the floor next to him. He folded his hands on the table and looked at her, watching as she fumbled through her bag for her planner and a pen.

“So,” he started, “it’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“You, too.” She replied, her eyes not looking up.

“I’m usually the only TA in Chris’ class, so it’s really cool to have someone else around. I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to be the only one proctoring an exam in a class of three-hundred people.”

“Three-hundred people?”

“Yeah. Sometimes it’s less, but that’s the average. It’s full of freshmen, too.”

She finally found her planner and a pen in the depths of her bag. “Are freshmen bad?”

He shook his head, “Not really, they’re just…odd.” He shrugged. “Some of them want to learn, some don’t, and you can tell right away. The ones that want to learn don’t want help—it’s always the procrastinators, the slackers, the ones that don’t care that need you.”

“How is that odd?”

“It’s strange to me, honestly. I didn’t really care either way my freshman year. I wanted to learn but I didn’t care enough to actually try.”

“So what changed? Chris made you seem like you were some mythical being.”

He laughed. She’ll admit, she was lost in his smile for a second. The glint in his eyes and the crinkle in his nose made her smile. “A mythical being?” he repeated. “I’m far from mythical. I think he gushes about me because I take over his office hours for him most days.”

That made her laugh. “Well, he seems to be appreciative of having you around. Hopefully I can be helpful.”

“I’m sure you can be,” he waved her off, “he probably told you that his class wasn’t that bad, but he’s totally lying. My first year helping him was rough—too much shit to do, and not enough time for it to get done.”

That sounded more accurate compared to what Chris told her yesterday. “I figured.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a great professor, and an awesome mentor to have—but sometimes he downplays stuff. He’ll say it’s “no big deal”, and it’ll be like Armageddon for us.”

She nodded slowly. “Any advice for getting on his good side?”

He chuckled. “If he likes you, you’ll know. And if he likes you, he’ll help you out. He’s not at all unreasonable, either; so just tell him what’s up when you have a problem, or if you’re overwhelmed, and he’ll do what he can to help.”

“That’s not what I heard.” She mumbled.

“Well, his students from last year will say he’s a dick, but—and you can’t tell anyone I told you this—” he leaned in closer, whispering, “he went through a nasty divorce last fall.”

So he isn’t married.

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah. He wasn’t in the best place, but I’ll admit he’s eased up quite a bit so you should be fine.”

“Okay, cool.”

“Anything else you want to know?”

She thought for a moment. “Not really, no.”

He smiled again, “Alright. Well it was great talking with you, and I’m sorry again for being late.”

She shrugged, “Shit happens.”

“You’re exactly right. The meter maids are probably having a field day giving me tickets.” He stood from the table, putting his bag over his shoulder that was covered in a dark green jacket, brushing his hair behind his ears and away from his face.

She stood shortly after he did. “Good luck with that.”

“Oh, trust me, it wouldn’t be anything new for me to have a ticket by now. I’ve gotten five since May.”

Her eyes widened this time. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. The parking on campus is shit, you get in where you can. Open parking spaces are scarce, especially by Franklin Hall…so sometimes I park on the street.”

Street parking is decal only. By the number of tickets he’d obtained, she deduced that he most likely had no decal. “Hence all the tickets.” She finalized.

“Yeah.”

“Criminal.” She shook her head jokingly.

“Guilty as charged.” He held out his wrists to her as if she was putting him in handcuffs. “See you around, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Then he turned and left, moving quickly down the pavement.

—

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[sinkingsidewalks]

why do memories glow (the way real moments don't)

Chapter 2 - i put all my demons on display

September 2003

After four days at MIT Jemma had decided her least favourite class was review methodology and three weeks later she had yet to change her mind. The prof, Sitwell, was dull – which she expected out of an undergrad but usually higher level instructors actually cared about teaching – the room was cold and too small – there was a draft that came through the walls and it made her shiver for two hours every week – and worst of all there was this boy.

He had to be as young as her, or younger, because he had curly blonde hair like a little kid, and rounded cheeks that her grandfather would have pinched – she knew, even though she barely remembered the man. He stayed after each lecture to talk to the professor for longer than she wanted to wait to have her own conversation with him, and the one time she overheard them talking it was mostly him repeating himself because Sitwell couldn’t understand his accent. And that was the other thing, he was Scottish, which meant everyone in the class automatically lumped them together as the two foreign babies.

The class was familiar, all stuff she had to do for her last degree, which made her dread it even more. But there was no way out of it, it was a requisite for all PhD students at MIT, so she tried to find a way to bear it. Until the class was paired up to peer review each other, and the prof, probably because they’re the same age – she learned that he was only barely older than her – decided they should be partners.

Class ended, she stayed in her seat because she figured he’d need his usual twenty minutes to talk to Sitwell about god knows what. She wondered if he was somehow new to school, maybe it was his first time in an advanced program and he actually didn’t know anything about research practices. She flipped through her notes while she waited, filling in details she’d missed in the lecture, she was nothing if not diligent. Even if she knew all the information already, you could never tell when something would come in handy. She got lost in correcting her spelling and bullet point organization until she heard a throat clear above her.

“Um, hi.” The boy, his name was Fitz, or that’s what she’d heard someone call him, not that she paid extra attention to him.

“Don’t you need to talk to the professor?”

“What?”

“Every week, you talk to the prof for like, half an hour.”

“Oh, no, that’s, he’s a Liverpool fan.”

“Ah,” she said delicately. “Football.”

He sat in the chair next to her and even in the simple action it seemed like his limbs went everywhere. “So, yeah, hi I’m Fitz,”

“Jemma Simmons,” she held out her hand and he shook it too enthusiastically. His hands were cracked dry and calloused, there was a thick bandage over his one thumb.

“Do you have your paper on you? We could swap now and set a time to talk about it later.”

“Yes, right.” She dug through her binder for a moment before coming out with the copy she’d printed to hand off to the prof before he revealed they were doing this swap thing. They were supposed to grade each other’s papers, a learning experience for the TA work lots of grad students did in their later years. “What’s your week look like, I could meet day after tomorrow?”

“Uh, that’s Tuesday,” he stared at the ceiling while he though. “I’m in the lab until two but I could meet after that, we could get lunch?”

“Sure.”

“I’m in Engineering, building five, it’s right across from the student center, we could meet there?”

“Sounds good.”

He clicked out his pen and rolled up the sleeve of his jumper, nodding, writing on his forearm that was already covered in other scribbles of ink, then he dug his paper out of the backpack on his shoulder. “See you then.”

She nodded, took his paper and handed off her own and kept packing up her things. She had another class to get to, this one an upper level on biological engineering that she was auditing because she thought it might take her research in an interesting direction later.

She told herself that she was only going to glance at his paper that night, then get a good night’s sleep for once and do her work in the morning, but she was only two paragraphs in and she knew she wouldn’t be sleeping until she figured this boy out.

There had been essentially no limit on what they could write about, and he’d chosen some cutting edge research on rocket engines, and she was enthralled. She knew nothing about it, she kept having to look up words that weren’t in her dictionary, but it was fascinating, and he was a good writer. He rarely spoke up in class but when he did he stuttered and talked in rambling circles, but his writing was clear, easy to understand if you had a degree in mechanical engineering, which she assumed he did.

She blinked and it was two in the morning, her eyes were burning from squinting in the dim light of her desk lamp and she had sticky notes strewn around with comments and questions littering them. She stacked the papers while taking a swig of her ice cold tea. It would be a struggle the next day not to spend all her reading time in the engineering section of the library, just to figure out some of what he was talking about. She almost cursed herself for setting their meeting in two days. She didn’t want to wait to talk to him again.

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[heymiss-miss]

My Public School Education

It has been a major blow to me as an American and education to see that Betsy DeVos has cleared committee and one step further to being the Secretary of Education. As someone that has gone through the American public school system and is now a teacher in New Zealand, I think a lot about how to fix public schools in order to benefit the students that are most in need.

I am a first generation American. My parents' ability to immigrant to the United States was because education opened the doors for them. My father was educated in New Zealand. Early in his education, he was labeled as a less 'a dumb kid'. He remembers being seated at the bottom of the class table group at school. The expectation and mindset were set that he would never achieve anything, and that was further supported by his mother. He was further ostracized due to his depression. It was no surprise to me that he dropped out of school. He told me that one day he woke up and realized he wanted to do more with his life. He went night school, worked and eventually got his university entrance. Neither of his parents got university educations. Nana was not encouraged to get higher education and Grandad tried, but found that his rural education did not prepare him for university, so he dropped out. My father was the only sibling to complete university.

At university, he met my mother, who also had a different journey to get her university education. My mother was born in Malaysia to Chinese parents. My Ah Poh (grandmother) was in charge of the children's education since it was a part of her role as a wife and mother. She went against tradition and her husband by sending my mother and her siblings to a Catholic school, which taught in English instead of a traditional Chinese one. Ah Poh greatly valued education but unfortunately was never able to get one herself. She was born in the wrong place, wrong time which didn't value the education of girls.

One of the important tools my Ah Poh wanted her children to have was the ability to speak English fluently. She knew it would give them a better life and more opportunities. I think that's an important narrative of immigrants. They make the decisions and sacrifices to ensure their children have more than they had. I saw that with my Ah Poh and Ah Kong (grandfather) with their decision to leave Hainan for Malaysia and I saw it with my parents and their decision to move to the United States.

My mom likes to admit that she was not a good student, I guess to show us that grades don't determine success and the system doesn't always support you. While my mother was at school, the Malaysian government changed the testing system. She was forced to do her exams in Malay, a language she was not strong in. The combination of her poor grades and the discriminatory process of limiting university spaces for the Chinese, she couldn't get in.

But my Ah Poh's decision to send her children to an English school meant that she had options and soon she was looking towards the United States for university education. But was by chance she ended up in New Zealand. My mother tells me about how she was randomly walking in the mall and representatives from New Zealand had a booth. They were trying to encourage Malaysian students to apply and study in New Zealand. My mom filled out an application and didn't think much of it because she figured she would get rejected based on her grades. But she didn't and it changed the course of her life. She worked and saved to be able to afford to leave her home to get her education. I can understand how scary would have been because I did the same when I was 18.

Although my parents love New Zealand and still do call it home, they moved to the United States in order to chase that dream to be able to provide more for their children. While they were pregnant with me, they bought a house in Berwyn. The thing you have to remember in Illinois is that a big component of school funding is from the property tax. Since they were recent immigrants, they couldn't afford a nicer neighborhood. But hoped that it would change and if not, they saved to make it possible. My dad often reminds me about how my mom would only eat peanut butter sandwiches at work so she could save that lunch money for us. My Ah Poh moved in when I was 8 to care for my brother and me, and that helped with the costs of child care which meant more money for us to save.

I loved Berwyn, I loved my schools. But now that I'm older and also an educator, I can see the cracks in the system. I remember in the 1st grade we would travel from our classrooms to the music room or art room for our lessons. But come 2nd grade and the increase in the roll, the music and art teachers lost their classrooms to provide space for more elementary classes. Now that I'm a teacher, I am amazed that they rolled with the punches. When you're teaching a subject the requires specific resources like art, music, science or technology, and then not having a classroom to store those resources, it if frustrating because you don't feel like you can teach to the best of your ability and you're doing a disservice to the children.

In the 3rd grade, I remember mold growing on the ceiling in the classroom. Our teacher was allergic to it and also probably wasn't good for our health. We needed to be moved and were no classrooms. So we were moved into the library. Again, the quality of education was sacrificed because of poor funding. Now all the children at the school couldn't get easy access to the library. Our lessons were disrupted to allow other classes to have their library time. But again, the educators just rolled with the punches and did the best they could do in the situation. We did our science fair, we still did our presentations about historical figures, we stilled learned.

In the 4th and 5th grade, my classroom was in the basement. When I was a child, I thought 'Great, we're in best place if there's ever a tornado.' Actually, in the grand scheme of things, that wasn't that bad. Sure we didn't have windows, but we could still learn.

After I left elementary school, they finally started building an additional so we could have more classrooms. It meant giving up the playground, but all we had was cement anyway. But like in the classrooms, it didn't stop us. I still remember having fun throwing up helicopter seeds and playing kickball.

I was in my middle school for less than a year before we moved. We had a strict dress code to prevent gang colors. After I left, they did decide to go with a uniform. During the spring of my 6th-grade year, my parents saved enough money to move us into River Forest. We jumped from a lower-middle class neighborhood to a upper-class one. But I still carried my label. I was finally at a school with resources, but I felt like I was treated as less than because of my background. I spent the remainder of my 6th and 7th-grade years in the 'normal' classes. When I was in Berwyn, I was placed into the advanced classes. Needless to say, I was bored. I wasn't just getting As, I was getting A+s. I remember telling my mom this and we went to the school to get me moved into another class. We told them I was in the advance classes at my old school and that I was bored. And the response was, "She might haven able to handle the advance classes in Berwyn, but she can't handle OURS."

To 'compromise' they pulled me from Spanish and gave me an 'advance study period.' I was happy, it got me out of Spanish and I'm poor in any foreign language. I did enjoy getting to focus on things that interested me and it did help with my boredom. But looking back, it saddens me to think how the label of being from a rough neighborhood meant that I wasn't a student that could be challenged.

I had a wonderful, high-quality high school experience. But my school was streamed and I was in the advanced classes. I only took one regular class and shocked at the difference in the quality of teaching and expectations of the students. My school struggled with huge achievement gaps between the white and black students, and that wasn't a surprise. The advanced classes were predominantly white. Now that I'm an educator, I wonder why such a huge discrepancy between the expectations and resources provided to students in the different streams was allowed. It was a disservice to the ones most in need.

Even though saved for my education, I made the decision to go to New Zealand for university. The primary reason was because of the cost. Because I am also a New Zealand citizen, I was entitled to pay the domestic rates. I worked out that cost wise going to an in-state public university or going to New Zealand was going to be the same. Going to a private university although financially possible, meant no money left over for grad school. I knew I wanted to become a scientist and that required grad school. I also knew when I was 18 that I wanted to leave Illinois because I wanted to experience something different. However, the only financially sensible was to move half way around the world. I'm not an unusual chase. Through my university experience, I have met 3 Americans during my undergrad that made the same decision. I'm sure there's more out there that our paths just didn't cross. At the end of the day, my undergrad plus living expenses plus flights cost my parents what one year at a private university would be. It is one thing to do a bachelor in science, it is another a master in science. I only really felt like a scientist once I did my own research and wrote my thesis.

I am very grateful for the public education that I have received. It has shaped me to be a well-rounded person. It has directed me in the path that I want to take my life. It has given me skills to be a critical thinker and articulate person. It has taught me about politics, government, culture, equality and science. I am able not only to be a well-informed voter but also an economic and social contributor.

But sadly, my experiences in the public school system was a privilege. A privilege because my parents were educated, they had good jobs, they were smart with their money and the schools recognized that I was smart and gave me the resources and challenged me. My access to high-quality education should not have been a privilege but a right. That's why I went into education. I wanted to pay it back. To help others that don't the same chances I did. Chances I only received because of the family I was born into.

When I started teaching in New Zealand, I didn't want to work at a private school (that would pay more) or a prestigious Grammar school.  My students do ask 'why are you here, why not teach at a private school?' That isn't meant as a 'leave, don't want you' but rather 'you are so good, why not go for something better?' I tell them that I do it to give them an opportunity to not only to learn science from a scientist but also how to go down that path.

Betsy DeVos becoming Secretary of Education greatly scares me. I don't think she is going to improve the public education system, in fact, I believe she is going to make it worst. Education should not be privatized. It is not a business. It shouldn't be focused on making a profit. It should be focused on the kids, especially the ones the most in need. Education is a ticket for better life and it shouldn't be a ticket that you can buy.