Alfred had always known he would major in the sciences at college, but he was still interested in getting a good, well-rounded education (he was paying enough for it, after all). So his roommate Kiku encouraged Alfred to take a literature course with him – the only condition being that Alfred would need his Japanese friend's help with essays sometimes. As a science guy, Alfred really struggled with this subtle, flowery poetry junk.
Although the two roommates shared a lecture for the course, they were split up into different seminar groups with different professors, and Alfred quickly found himself hating books and poetry even more without Kiku around to encourage him. His seminar group was full of literature nerds who looked at him like he was a moron, and his teacher always picked on him even though she knew he never had any good input to offer.
But one Wednesday afternoon, a baseball injury and subsequent trip to the doctor's provided Alfred with the unexpected bonus of skipping his Thursday morning seminar, meaning he could sit in with Kiku's group on Friday to catch up. Kiku always seemed to enjoy his seminars and the lively debates the class would get into, so Alfred was excited to see what he could get from this lesson.
There was something slightly magical about joining a different class for a day, Alfred thought as he walked to class with Kiku. It was just like the feeling Alfred got once when he was allowed to go in the basement of his elementary school - kind of scary, but exciting, and it made him feel important. He followed Kiku into a small, intimate lecture hall – much nicer than his own seminar classroom – with tiered seats that had nice wooden fold out desktops. He sat down eagerly next to Kiku in the front row, feeling confident that today he might finally get this poetry junk!
"This class is already better than mine," Alfred pouted jealously. "What's your professor like? He has to be nicer than mine."
"He's a very brilliant teacher," Kiku replied. "I never feel stupid when I offer my own amateur opinion, because he's very patient and understanding, and helps you develop your ideas. He's also very funny - quite jolly, in fact."
The door opened, and the class hushed as a young man entered. He could have been a student except for his ridiculously old-fashioned tweed jacket, and the wild blond hair adding to the eccentric professor look.
Kiku leant towards Alfred and whispered quietly. "That is not our usual teacher."
But the young man didn't seem thwarted by the fact that this was not his class. He stalked up to the podium at the front of the room, hushing the curious whispers of the students with a single, cold glare. He looked startled when his eyes finally met Alfred's, but the American had no idea what was going on anyway, so he didn't know what to make of suc a reaction.
"All right, this must be everyone," the young man said at last, a crisp English accent sparking Alfred's interest even further. "Professor McIntire isn't here today, so I'll be taking over the seminar. I'm Professor Kirkland, a guest lecturer here this year. I usually teach children's literature, but I do know a thing or two about poetry so I was asked to take over this class today.
"I'll pass round the register, so please sign in, and while you're doing that let's jump right in, shall we? I believe you're doing Shakespeare's sonnets this week."
Alfred's interest was well and truly piqued. Professor Kirkland looked like something out of a storybook or a comedy sketch, and he seemed strict and serious but apparently specialised in children's literature? It was too adorable, so Alfred raised his hand, wanting to know what country and university the professor was visiting from.
"Yes, Alfred?"
The American student blinked in confusion, all his questions vanishing from his mind.
"How do you know my name?"
Professor Kirkland's face froze. "Ah…Oh! It was in the register, of course," he said after a moment, looking slightly triumphant at the explanation.
"But…I'm not in this class," Alfred said slowly. "I'm just here today 'cause I missed my usual seminar. My name isn't on the register." The words were out before Alfred himself had realised they were true, but now he was doubly curious.
"Oh, uh…well then, I...I suppose I must just recognise you from...from your baseball games," Kirkland admitted, looking everywhere but at Alfred. "I've been to a few games and just happened to remembered your face and name. That's all."
On the surface of things, Alfred found that perfectly reasonable, but there was still something fishy going on. Professor Kirkland's face was now turning a flaming red, his eyes darting around the room, guiltily. As Alfred kept studying him, the young teacher turned his back on the class and shuffled some papers on the podium for a few long moments before turning back to the students, his face carefully schooled into a calm expression, but still showing a flush of red.
He carefully avoided Alfred's eyes after that.
Professor Kirkland gave them a five minute introduction on the Shakespearean sonnets, but Alfred was barely paying attention. He'd never cared about poetry anyway, but he was quickly becoming fascinated with the professor.
"Any questions?" Kirkland asked when his introduction was over. Alfred raised his hand and the professor coughed nervously and looked away as he asked "Yes, Mr. Jones?"
"Do you like baseball, then?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You said you'd been to a few games," Alfred clarified. "So does that mean you like baseball?"
Arthur braved a glance at Alfred's curious blue eyes, finding no malice or teasing taunt behind the question.
"It's the closest thing you have to cricket here," he said, by way of explanation.
Alfred nodded slowly, his mind still revolving around the professor as he began his discussion on Sonnet 18.
"To my mind, it has always seemed a little sarcastic. 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?/Thou art more lovely and more temperate.' When you compare it to something like sonnet 130, it's obvious Shakespeare is quite capable of expressing a true love without resorting to flattery, so this sonnet just doesn't seem as genuine."
Alfred raised his hand, and Kirkland jumped a little in surprise.
"Mr. Jones?"
"Do you not like Shakespeare, then?"
Arthur crossed his arms and leant back against his desk, relaxing himself for a rant, apparently. "I have the utmost respect for the man, and I find his plays and poems thoroughly enjoyable. But it seems that teaching his works to younger students in junior high or high school doesn't really do much good. You have to offer a simple, easy explanation for everything, rather than exploring the true genius of the works, so the most superficial interpretations are the ones that become popular. For God's sake, Romeo and Juliet is not the world's greatest tragic love romance, they're sodding children! Everyone knows this and yet we still get it stuffed down our throats as if it's the pinnacle of all love stories."
Alfred nodded, enjoying Kirkland's passion and feisty attitude more than the actual opinion he was trying to impart. He couldn't wait to hear more, and he didn't even let the professor finish his next speech before he was raising his hand again.
"Jones?" Kirkland glared at him.
"So what's the world's greatest romance?"
"What."
Kirkland was staring at him, dead-pan, but Alfred wasn't perturbed. "You said 'Romeo and Juliet isn't the world's greatest tragic romance.' So what is?"
"Tristan and Isolde," Kirkland replied instantly.
"Like the movie with James Franco?" Alfred asked.
"No. Not like the movie with James Franco," Kirkland replied, thick eyebrows visibly twitching. "Nothing worth reading is ever like the movie."
Alfred's hand shot up in the air again instantly.
"Yes, Alfred?" the professor growled, sounding truly annoyed this time.
"What about 'The Hobbit'? Or 'The Lord of the Rings'? Or 'Harry Potter'?"
Professor Kirkland rolled his eyes and sighed. "There are some exceptions to the rule, I admit, but they're such anomalies they can hardly be taken into account in the grand scheme of things. And even then, I would always recommend the book over the movie. Most of the time, I would recommend the book and tell you to burn all copies of the movie you ever happened to see, but there you go."
Alfred certainly had an argument for that analysis. Hadn't the professor ever seen Jaws? That was way better than the book!
"What about – "
"Alfred!" the professor snapped.
Two dozen pairs of eyes widened in surprise, and Professor Kirkland blushed at his outburst. He glanced sheepishly at Alfred, still trying to remain authoritative and composed.
"Mr. Jones, these questions have nothing to do with today's seminar. If you really want to discuss personal matters like books and movies then you'll have to come and see me after class."
Once again, all eyes widened, but it wasn't until Alfred smiled victoriously that the professor realised what he'd said. It was meant to be a deterrent, to stop Alfred interrupting him, but instead it sounded like he'd invited him for an intimate get together in their free time.
Alfred beamed at the professor, who blushed a painful red.
"Great. It's a date!"
Author's Note:
Written for the 365daysofusuk drabble calendar on tumblr. Posted on March 28th, 2014.
The title - "That's What I Go To School For" - is taken from the song of the same name, by the awesome boy band "Busted." Please go listen to it. The song is about a student who has the hots for his teacher and it is amazing. In fact, Most Busted songs are amazing and hilarious - like "Air Hostess" where the singer apparently jizzes his pants on the plane because the stewardess is so hot, or "Year 3000" where they travel to the future and not much has changed but everyone lives under water.