“Mr. Kahale, your attempts at charm are misplaced and inappropriate for this setting. This is an advanced-level class at a university, not a rager at a frat house. If you cannot conduct yourself with the professionalism this learning environment demands, I will have to ask you to leave.”
The room falls silent, the air taut with the tension of a stretched wire between him and me. His smirk fades, replaced by a flicker of surprise, perhaps not accustomed to being addressed so directly.
Some people lack discipline.
He is one of them.
Maybe his rebellious nature is his way of fighting back against their control. At this point, I couldn’t care less. Preferring for him to remain silent for the remainder of the class and for the good of the other students. He straightens, his playful demeanor shifting as he assesses the seriousness of my tone.
“I was just trying to lighten the mood, Professor. No offense meant.”
“Mr. Kahale, while I appreciate a light-hearted approach when appropriate, now is not the time. We are discussing the foundational elements that will guide your success in this course. I suggest you align your priorities accordingly.”
I pause, letting my words sink in, hoping to steer him back to why we are all here. He nods, slightly chastened, and sinks back into his seat. There’s a note of genuine respect or at least an acknowledgment of boundaries.
Turning back to the rest of the class, watching the exchange with rapt attention, I clear my throat and start again.
“Now, if there are no further interruptions, let us proceed with the outline of our lab requirements.”
I continue detailing the syllabus, explaining the rigorous expectations and commitment required to excel in my course. As I dive into lab partners, a hand shoots up from the back of the room, and I fix him with a look that clearly communicates my dwindling patience.
“Again, Mr. Kahale?”
“I promise this relates to the class.”
He stands, a smirk playing across his lips while he adjusts a silver necklace around his neck.
“About the lab partners, are we allowed to choose, or is it more the Professor deciding kind of thing? If the latter, which I hope, I’m very willing to be partnered up with the most experienced chemist in the room, if she’s willing.”
I take a deep breath, ignoring the tension between us, blatantly aware that this is a pivotal moment.
“Mr. Kahale, you should consider whether this course is right for you since you cannot commit to the basic requirements of punctuality and respect. In fact, please remove yourself from my classroom immediately. I suggest you find a different course more suited to . . . you.”
His smile fades.
His eyes harden when realizing the finality of my decision. Surprise flits across his face again, perhaps other professors tolerated his antics, but I will not. This is a prestigious institution, and respect is a foundational pillar here.
He looks around the room, his hand clutching the back of his neck, before moving away from his seat. The room remains silent, and the atmosphere is thick. I wait a heartbeat, then refocus on the remaining students.
“Let’s continue.”
My voice is steady despite the anger at his audacity raising my blood pressure. I’m not letting some kid ruin my employment chances and a shot at potential tenure.
As he passes by the podium, he pauses and looks at me. He gives a mock salute, two fingers to his brow, but I do not acknowledge it. I turn away, focusing on the rest of the class.
“In honor of your classmate’s departure, I’ll let you select your lab partners since we now have an even number of students.”
3
DIEGO
Pissed. That’s what I am. I take things too far sometimes. Boredom does that, and a dash of arrogance doesn’t help. But the last thing I expected was for hot Professor Rossi to have such a stick up her ass, a stick I’ll gladly replace with my dick.
I mean, it’s the first day of class.
Sure, I was late.
Maybe I flirted too aggressively.
