Chapter 3 3

Suddenly, a flock of students came inside, filling the rest of the seats. Behind them walked a tall man, probably in his early thirties dressed in a suit. The clunk of his shoes dulled the whispering voices of the students as they settled down. The man carried with him his laptop and a file which he lay open on top of the speaker's podium at the front of the class.

"Holy hell, is that our professor?" Asked Nia, her eyes widening. I was just as surprised as she was.

He was drop-dead gorgeous.

"Alright class, settle down. First of all, good morning everyone, welcome to Art History. I'll be your professor for this course. You can address me by Professor, Sir, or Dr Woodley, anything else is unacceptable." He said, his deep, commanding voice reaching every corner of the room. "I hope you have all received the email I sent you a week ago and have prepared for this class accordingly. I did receive a few replies, asking why I chose to conduct my evaluation this way. News flash, you're all adults, you're now Master students, and you shall be treated as such. For that reason, I expect nothing from you except hard work and dedication. You might not see it now, but this course is fundamental for your development as the artist you want to become. Like an old professor of mine used to say, we must understand the past to understand the present and create the future."

His strong words lingered in the air, the room dead silent. If my anxiety had been high this morning, it had only increased by a thousand percent.

"I'll begin by taking attendance and then we'll look at the content for this course in more detail." He looked at his papers and read aloud. "Vera Stone."

"Present."

"Matt Dixon?."

"Present."

"Ciara..." He paused. I knew exactly was coming. "Lotus."

Like every teacher in my whole life, he pronounced my last name like dot. I was afraid to correct him, but I had to do it or else he'd pronounce my name wrongly for the rest of the semester. I raised my hand shyly and cleared my throat.

"It's pronounced Lotus Professor, like Cactus."

He snickered, amused by my correction. "Alright, Ciara Lotus Like Cactus." He said, marking me present on his sheet. "Is it French?"

My cheeks flared up. Why was he making fun of me on my first day, in front of everyone?

"I'd assume you'd know since you're teaching a course where half the terms are in French."

Nia kicked me under the desk, trying to hold in her laughter. I could hear some students holding in theirs as well, whispers coming down the levels of the amphitheater-like a wave. Maybe my comment was a little too much. Yeah, most definitely. I regretted it as soon as it came out of my mouth.

"Looks like I'm not teaching adults after all. We'll talk at the end of the class, Miss Lotus."

He continued to take attendance, and my nervousness skyrocketed. I looked at Nia, the girl I had met just 20 minutes ago, searching for comfort and words of encouragement. She had a devilish smile on her face.

"Look, it isn't that bad. You're gonna be up close and personal with him."

Needless to say, her words had the opposite outcome of what I wished.

The class continued smoothly. After taking attendance and not making jokes anymore about anybody's names, Dr Woodley dissected the syllabus and explained how the grading was going to work. As expected, individual participation was graded as well, and that included the oh-so-dreadful surprise questions about the papers.

The professor changed the PowerPoint slides until he reached one with the cover of the paper we had to read. Everyone immediately tensed up.

Dr. Woodley took a step down from the podium, coming closer to the front row. He looked serious and unfriendly. Was he happy to be teaching this course or was he just doing it because the faculty was forcing him?

"At the beginning of the fifteenth century, painters and sculptors were seldom regarded as more than artisans and craftsmen, but within little more than a hundred years they had risen to the status of 'artists'." He began, pacing back and forth, his voice strong and confident. "This paper explores how early Renaissance artists gained recognition for the intellectual foundations of their activities and achieved artistic autonomy from enlightened patrons. Now, since this is the first lecture, I'll be going easy on you. For today, I just want you to give me your opinions on the text, highlight the most important parts, and share your own conclusions about it. Is there anyone who would want to take the lead?"

As predicted, everyone went silent. He scanned the room, his eyes landing on me.

Oh no.

"Miss Cactus, since you have already given us a piece of your mind, why won't you go first?"