Clara had thought going back to university was the right choice even though she was in her late 20s. Other people did it all the time. In fact her classes were swarming with people of all ages, even a few pensioners. She wasn't exactly sure what she would do after getting her degree in sociology but she had only just started and there was still time to figure everything out. What Clara knew for certain was that she couldn't ever go back to teaching.
It had been exactly one year since her boyfriend and colleague had died in a car accident and after a break she had tried to go back to school but everything about that place had reminded her of him. Clara had realized it might be better to switch schools after she had broken out in tears three days in a row in front of her class but it was no use. She had still expected Danny to knock and stick his head through her classroom door any minute and it just couldn't go on like that. After speaking to her family and even a therapist she had come to the conclusion that a change of careers might be best.
That was how Clara, now two months into her first semester, found herself attending a class on gender studies. She had gotten the results of her first essay this morning, an A+, the same grade everyone else seemed to have received as well, which was odd. She hadn't exactly given it her best and even the others seemed baffled.
She turned her attention back to Professor Doctor John Smith, who was, as she had learned an expert on the subject. Yet her mind kept wandering. Today was the anniversary of Danny's death and she would've stayed home, pretending to be sick, if Smith's class hadn't been obligatory. She usually loved attending his classes but it seemed as if her professor wasn't having the best of days either. Maybe he had overslept, he certainly looked like it. Hair ruffled, unshaven, his rimmed glasses slightly askew and she could've sworn that he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He also seemed very scattered, changing the subject every few minutes, leaving sentences unfinished and half an hour before the time was up he told them to go home.
Clara gathered her things and started to approach his desk.
“Uhm, Professor Smith?” she asked carefully.
He looked at her over the rim of his glasses, confused. It took him quite a while to reply. “You're new. First semester?”
“Yeah. Listen, about my essay. . .”
“Explains why you don't know my nickname. Most students just call me the Doctor,” he gave her a half-hearted smile as he continued to stuff his papers into his briefcase.
“Oh, okay. I have a question about my essay. Are you sure you've given me the right grade?” Clara held her paper into his direction, her eyebrows raised.
“Yes, yes, quite sure. Look, can this wait until tomorrow?” the Doctor stood up straight and looked at her.
Clara felt slightly intimidated by his posture an the tone in his gravelly voice.
“Yeah, sure,” she replied.
“Now, if you'll excuse me,” the Doctor grabbed his briefcase and headed out of the room.
克莱拉以为回到大学是正确的选择,即使她是在她后期的 20 多岁。其他人做到了所有的时间。事实上她的班级里长满了人们的青睐,甚至还有几个养老金领取者。她不是很确定她会得到她的学位在社会学后做什么,但她才刚开始和还有时间把一切都搞。克拉拉确切知道的是,她永远回不去的教学。它已经整整一年以来她的男友和同事在一场车祸中丧生和休息后,她曾试图回去上学但一切关于那个地方提醒她,他。克拉拉已经意识到它也许不如换学校之后她中爆发了眼泪连续三天在她的课,但也没有用。她仍以为丹尼敲门并坚持他的头在她的教室门口的每一分钟,它只是不能这样下去。她的家人,甚至一位治疗师交谈后她来到职业生涯的改变可能是最好的结论。那是克拉拉,她第一学期,现在两个月如何发现自己上课性别研究。今天早上,A +,在同一个档次其他人似乎已经收到了,这很怪她得到她的第一篇论文的结果。她完全没给它取她最好,即使别人一筹莫展。She turned her attention back to Professor Doctor John Smith, who was, as she had learned an expert on the subject. Yet her mind kept wandering. Today was the anniversary of Danny's death and she would've stayed home, pretending to be sick, if Smith's class hadn't been obligatory. She usually loved attending his classes but it seemed as if her professor wasn't having the best of days either. Maybe he had overslept, he certainly looked like it. Hair ruffled, unshaven, his rimmed glasses slightly askew and she could've sworn that he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He also seemed very scattered, changing the subject every few minutes, leaving sentences unfinished and half an hour before the time was up he told them to go home.Clara gathered her things and started to approach his desk.“Uhm, Professor Smith?” she asked carefully.He looked at her over the rim of his glasses, confused. It took him quite a while to reply. “You're new. First semester?”“Yeah. Listen, about my essay. . .”“Explains why you don't know my nickname. Most students just call me the Doctor,” he gave her a half-hearted smile as he continued to stuff his papers into his briefcase.“Oh, okay. I have a question about my essay. Are you sure you've given me the right grade?” Clara held her paper into his direction, her eyebrows raised.“Yes, yes, quite sure. Look, can this wait until tomorrow?” the Doctor stood up straight and looked at her.Clara felt slightly intimidated by his posture an the tone in his gravelly voice.“Yeah, sure,” she replied.“Now, if you'll excuse me,” the Doctor grabbed his briefcase and headed out of the room.
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