End of the Semester

Leila

I checked the time and finished up the lesson plan I was working on for the next semester before getting up from my chair. “Time’s up,” I announced to the class.

There were a few groans before the typical shuffling began. Students of my Greek Mythology class began to pack up, bringing me their final exams. I kept a stack, smiling and saying various platitudes to the students I had come to know over the last three months.

“It was a great class,” one young woman said. “I didn’t know I liked Greek Mythology, but the way you teach it with such enthusiasm is contagious. You have a real passion for it and it makes it exciting.”

“Ah, thank you Amber. I appreciate that. I’ve always had my head in the clouds, dreaming about gods and goddesses.”

“Do you actually believe in it?”

I grinned. “I think I believe a version of it, yes. I think we all need to have a little fantasy in our lives.”

“Good point. See you later. I wish you taught all my classes.”

I waved and took the next paper. I was always a little sad at the end of a semester. I felt like I spent three months getting to know my students just to say goodbye to them when I figured out I liked them. After collecting all the papers, I stuffed them into my briefcase beside my laptop and took one last look around the classroom.

I was going to enjoy the few days off I had, but it wouldn’t be real days off. I still had to grade the papers and finalize the mini-mester syllabus. “No rest for the wicked,” I mumbled, turning off the lights and walking into the hall.

“Hi,” a deep male voice said, startling me.

“You startled me,” I gasped, looking at the young man leaning up against the wall.

“Sorry.”

“What’s up, Derek?” I asked, recognizing him from class. “Did you forget something in class?”

“No, I thought I would hang out for a minute so I could speak with you alone.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, what’s going on?” I asked with concern.

“I’m just going to go out on a limb here. I’m officially no longer your student. That means, it’s not against any rules for us to date. I’d like to take you to dinner.”

I stared at him. He was an attractive young man, young being the key word. He was too young for me, and truthfully, I doubted we had anything in common. “That’s very nice, but you are still a student at U of H and I am still a professor with no tenure. I really couldn’t risk seeing a student. It just isn’t professional. I like my job and I respect my students.”

“Ah, come on, one date. If it’s good, I’ll drop out.”

I shook my head. “Now that seems a little extreme. Derek, you’re an attractive young man and I’m sure you have an entire student body you could pull from. I don’t date students.”

“Not date, dinner,” he countered. I wasn’t so old that I didn’t speak twenty-something. He was talking sex. He actually thought I was just going to agree to have a one-night stand with him. It was offensive.

“No thank you. I have to get to my office. Enjoy your break and good luck with your classes next semester.”

I quickly walked away, not daring to look back. It wasn’t the first time I had been asked out by a student, but it always felt awkward. I was at least a good ten years older than him. At thirty-three, I was one of the youngest professors on campus, but I was certainly not the prettiest or sexiest, at least in my opinion. One of the art teachers looked like a model. She was thin, I was curvy. She had perfect hair that looked like she paid a small fortune for on a regular basis. My long, bone-straight blonde hair was very old-school.

My look was not one that would typically draw the attention of college jocks. I was sure it was my tits. They all liked my ample breasts. They were one of my best features and I didn’t mind flaunting them just a little. My breasts balanced out my ass, in my opinion. If my ass wasn’t big and round, I would fall flat on my face.

At least that’s what I told myself when I gave up trying to shape my butt into something that would fit into a size four pair of jeans. It was never going to happen, just like my boobs weren’t ever going to be in a b-cup. I embraced my God-given curves.

I made it to my office without being asked out by any other students. I closed the door and sat down to work on the other stack of papers that was waiting for me. I liked the classic method of students actually writing down their answers. I knew it was dated and a lot of other professors made fun of me for doing so, but in my mind, pen to paper inspired thought.

I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about Derek’s impromptu dinner invitation. It was flattering to be asked out, even if it wasn’t something I would ever do. Some days, I felt like I would die a lonely woman. Other days, I welcomed the idea of living out my life alone without having to bend to the whims of a husband. I could do what I wanted, go where I wanted, and just be me.