"Continuing education" is what our local tech college calls it. Everyone else refers to it as "old school". This didn't stop me from picking up a few refresher courses, when I was out of work a few years back. At the time I was, what I tongue-in-cheek called, damn near fifty. Of course, the term 'damn near fifty' works from the ages of about 48, until 55.
I certainly never felt that old. Fortunately, I had won the first round of fighting the good fight against the extra pounds that had come my way. Don't get me wrong. I had a few additional wrinkles, my ash blonde hair needed more de-ashing than I had projected, and I've come to refer to a modest amount of thigh dimples as hail damage. However, for the most part, my full-length mirror reported a still vibrant, voluptuous woman. A 34 double-d-26-35, at five-foot-four; this empty-nesting mother of two still had plenty of what it takes to garner plenty of male attention.
Being out of the workforce for over six months sucks on so many levels. The one redeeming thing was the extra time I now had to regroup and take some college courses. If nothing else, at least my waning self-esteem would snap back to attention. I was getting straight A's for the first time ever, and I loved it! Sure, my high grades screwed up the curve for the youngsters, but the hell with them. They've got their whole lives ahead, and a little competition from "mom" couldn't hurt.
It wasn't until my third semester, after registering for Psychology 101, that I questioned whether I would be able to ace this course as well. The no nonsense Professor William Grant was an attractive, but quiet man, well into his sixties. I noticed from day one, with all the young female students showing up in mini-skirts and low-cut tops, that he was going to be tough.
He was tough, but apparently not without an appreciation for a well-turned ankle or ample bosom. The humorous sight of all that nubile estrogen oozing from the front row in his lecture class had me giggling, until he started handing out assignments. "Whoa! Slow down there Professor!" I whispered from the back of the tiered amphitheatre. With a strict voice, he rattled off required text chapters, dates and names like it was some sort of directive from high command.
Glancing down at the front row, as I scribbled notes, I still had to chuckle. The dust was flying, as the young ladies scrambled to brush back their hair. Uncrossing their never-ending legs punctuated with elevated heels, they were completely caught off guard. One particular young blonde simply froze. With her deer-in-the-headlights stare, she was about to taste the molten steel of Grant's demeanor for the first time.
"So, are there pens and pencils on your planet?" His dark eyes sent lasers to penetrate the thickest of skulls in that row. She nodded, but I think that was just what she did, when asked most any question. "...and you DO have one of those?" He added.
Another brainless nod.
"Will we need to call security to help you locate it?" He dryly suggested.
Another nod. "Oh my God, she's gone numb!" I observed.
Slowly turning around, he appeared to be letting the most perfect epithet simmer and boil before launching. Several of us back-rowers breathed a joint sigh of relief, when the brunette next to blondie handed her a pen and opened her notebook. Coming out of his roundhouse turn, and ready to combust, the sight of her with pen and paper cut short what otherwise would have been total devastation.
From then on, one could say, Professor Grant had our undivided attention. I don't think one student dared exhale until class was over. Outside the classroom door in the hall we gathered--the survivors.
"Professor GRANITE, that's what they call him," one of the debs announced. Her young comrades totally agreed with that assessment, as compacts, cell phones and hairbrushes zipped through the air.
Wiping away a smirk, I broke into their well-guarded circle. "So what's the story on this guy?" I asked.
"I heard he's married to a younger woman, a MUCH younger woman," said one of them.
"My girlfriend had him last semester, and said he's tough, but he gives good grades to girls," added another.
"So, you guys just figured 'when in doubt' go with the extra skin theory?" I followed.
"Hey, whatever works! I need this course to complete my gen eds," said the tall brunette who donated the extra pen.
The pretty peroxide blonde victim was nowhere to be seen. "Cindy says she's gonna drop this class, for sure." I guessed Cindy was the aforementioned frozen victim of Professor Granite's fury.
Trotting off to my next class, I made a mental note to pay special attention in Psychology 101. If there was one thing (quite possibly the only sure thing) I've learned since returning to school, it was to really focus on giving each teacher what they wanted. Screw the curriculum; screw the textbooks; even the class itself. Each teacher had their own agenda and they generally graded students according to how well the students adhered to their personal expectations. I mean we're all only human. Once I discover what each specific teacher expects, it's not hard to simply satisfy his/her requirements. It's all about perceptions and fulfillment.
This method of breaking things down to basics is not dissimilar from my assessment of relationships, for that matter. Give a man (any man) what they think they want, and life is a breeze. Detecting Professor Grant's perceived wants might be challenging, but discovery is a great part of the fun for me.
My next scheduled class that day was a typical no-brain-required, skill-building, typing and filing course. The woman-of-little-words "teaching" the course directed us to do computer-assigned exercises. Essentially, she was really no more than another piece of furniture. We learned early on not to ask her questions, as she was completely self-absorbed with ignoring us and cruising the Internet. This is the sort of moronic course that gives scholastics a bad name. However, this class was definitely relaxing, after having to deal with PSY 101. Fortunately it was also what I like to call a D&G class. Once a student completed the required exercises, they were DONE and free to GO. Being a fair typist, the drills were easily accomplished; and I was done and gone in no time.
This gave me extra time to catch a bite to eat. Making my way across campus, I wandered into the huge, crowded cafeteria/commons area. Loading my tray with a sandwich, fruit drink, and snacks, I followed the conveyor belt to the cashier. Apparently the cashier had failed her remedial math course, as it was taking forever to service the kid in front of me. Glancing around for an open table, I caught sight of none other than the infamous Professor Granite himself, having lunch with a colleague. "Hmm, and the table behind him is open," I thought, when the cashier finally totaled my tray.
"Tree, nine-tee-fi," she reported, holding her hand out like a common peddler craving a donation. Actually, by the looks of her, I assumed this was probably her second job. I handed her four ones, received my nickel, and quick-stepped to the open table. Settling in and diving into my ever-so-healthy repast, with my back to the professor, I caught a bit of male-to-male dialog.
"You mean out of all those foxy young things, there wasn't one honey that tripped your trigger?" The colleague asked.
"I go through this every damn semester, Mark. For some reason, these teenyboppers all think that by pretending to be women that will impress me somehow," the professor stated.
"Oh come on! I saw some of those so-called teenyboppers coming out of your L-2 class. They looked pretty womanly to me, Bill," Mark objected.
"Pretenders I tell you, all of them," Grant replied between bites.
"Personally, I think you're losing it," Mark observed, with his mouth half-full.
"Is that so? Could it be I'm just content with my marriage, and don't require such diversions?"
"I know you better than that, AND I know about Sandra too. So, don't feed me that BS," Mark shot back.
Seldom in my life have I been privy to men chatting about the opposite sex. So, hearing this sort of locker room banter coming from two refined academics was revealing. What I over heard next ranked right at the top of insightful, if not totally surprising.
