Created By

irwinwe

Rate this Story

Embed

Okay...sorry to jump around with this.  I'm going to start writing a series of Professor Kane (2)s.  This is 2a.  The next will be 2b, etc.  I don't know how many there will be but it's all a lead-up to where there are after I left off with 7.  Anyway...read/rate/comment please!

***

Kane was a talented lecturer, full of passion on the subject, and quick-witted.  He was easy to listen to, which I was thankful for, because so many of the Scots spoke such a thick brogue that I was slow in deciphering their meaning.  That is, I was slow in deciphering their meanings as long as they weren't lifting their kilts at me or giving me what I had recently entitled the "red-cheeked grin", usually followed by a "Weel halo there" and a small growl.  Many of these Scots were hilariously forward, and very much "all talk and no walk".  The professor did not seem to be this way, however.  He seemed to be serious, but he also had a pleasant sense of subtle, dry humor that hovered around him constantly.  He had a quiet confidence about him, but he held something back.  And from the one glance that he'd given me earlier, I'd learned that his green eyes had a supreme power of reaching down to one's very core.  He appeared a simple man, but I wasn't so sure his inner persona was all that simple.  I rather thought he was a man with a lot of depth. 

Right then I caught myself listening to the sound of his voice instead of what he was saying, and was angry.  Yes, he was an attractive man.  Whoop-dee-doo, I'd seen them before, it was really no big deal.  I sighed at myself, now not knowing whether this year was going to be pleasant or malapropos - if I couldn't pay attention to the class because i was too distracted by my teacher than it certainly wasn't going to be pleasant.  I decided that I'd excuse myself just this once, as it was the first day of my classes in Scotland, and the first time i'd met the professor.  Anyone would be a little distracted, right?  I felt better then.  Until he asked the class a question.  I didn't realize that he was asking instead of lecturing until he looked directly at me.  

"You, tell me the answer" he said with a pleasantly expectant look on his handsome face, waiting for what he acted should have been an easy answer.  Me not knowing the information was surely not the problem, as I'd read my textbooks forwards and backwards, and was very secure in my knowledge of the topic on which he lectured.  However, if I'd only been listening...

"I..." I hesitated, embarrassment creeping hotly up my neck and into my cheeks.  He raised his brows, and panic shot through my stomach.

"Who can tell me?" he asked the remainder of the class.  I heard rustles behind me and cringed.  Everybody but me knows, I thought.  The red-headed man from the trouble-making group was the one who answered.  

"Weel ye see, some say that the Jacobite Rebellions were begun as a result of King William of Orange's enthronement, but rather, it was when King James II of England/VI of Scotland was deposed from the throne just the year before."

"Aye, tha' is the answer I was looking for...verra guud."  Then he returned to the chalkboard and continued his lecture.  He didn't look at me for the rest of the class, and I was glad of it, because i'm sure my face was beat red.  I had known the answer to that question.  I had meant to come here and know just as much as everyone else did about Scottish history, even if I was an American.  I had felt confident until now that I was just as knowledgeable as the rest of the class.  But if i was to be judged now, I certainly would have been laughed at, and possibly even asked to just...go home.

***

I decided after he dismissed the class that I would askKane to evaluate some of the research papers I'd written in my mastes program.  They were about different Scottish clans and their interactions with one another.  One was specifically about Clan Cameron, and the great Sir Ewen Cameron, or as many liked to call him, "The King of Thieves".  My teachers had all told me that they were spectacularly crafted, very entertaining for nonfiction pieces.  I considered this a complement, because creative nonfiction is very hard to find.  However, despite their favorable judgment, I didn't necessarily believe them, just because they were not specialists on the topics I had chosen in my papers, so I thought I would get Kane's more qualified opinion.  

I approached his desk, and he looked up from his papers, eyes peering over the edges of his glasses.  "How can i help you?"

"Well, I was wondering if you would, in your spare time of course, read over these research papers that i did in my masters program.  I just wanted to get an alternative opinion about my writing and how to improve it."

"Weel i'd be happy to look over them, Miss Irvine, but keep in mind that your writing in this class depends on how weel ye listen in lecture.  I asked ye a verra simple question today and ye either werena listening or didna know the answer.  This is graduate school, not a masters program, and ye should 'ave replied when I called on you."

I suddenly became very angry, not because he was negatively chastising me, just because I knew that he was right to do so.  I gritted my teeth, and gathered my wits again before I spoke in some sort of a clipped reprisal that he didn't deserve.  then i proceeded to explain myself.

"I did know the answer to that question, Dr. MacAllister, I just wasn't listening.  It is my first class here in Scotland and I was a bit distracted."

"Weel maybe this isna the right program for you, then, Miss Irvine. Ye dinna 'ave the time to get distracted 'ere.  If ye want your doctorate ye 'ave to be serious."

My anger-control wall instantly became more tenuous.  I feared I could no longer hide the terse tone that usually accompanied my irritation.

"Well I am sorry I appear to be unserious to you, Dr. MacAllister" I said, visibly and audibly angry now, "I would appreciate it if you read my papers before previously assuming anything else about my intentions in being here, and about my abilities in regards to getting my doctorate."

"I said nothing about your lack of ability, Miss Irvine, just about your questionable level of commitment."  His expression, adversely, told me very much the opposite.  His expression towards me was like a man's apathetic expression towards the stereotypical female that wasn't capable of intelligent thought.  I hated that look.  He thought I was typical, thoughtless.  I was anything but typical.  

"I assure you, if there is one thing for certain, there is nothing questionable about my commitment to this, sir.  I have worked very hard to get here and I intend to stay."

"Weel, guud.  Then prove it in class tomorrow."  He said, dismissing me by intentionally becomming bored with our conversation.  He stuck my papers in the back of his briefcase, ignoring the fact that I was glaring at him, trying to make him see my determination.  Either he was acting like a two-year-old child, or I was.  And how old were we?  Too old to be acting like two-year-old children.  I decided that I'd had enough of him for the day, and with a slight huff of exasperation I turned to gather my things.  I would go for a hard run, get some coffee, and then read my textbooks twice through instead of once. 

" 'Ave a guud evening, Miss Irvine" I heard him say, and l looked back at him before I exited the classroom.  He had an amused smile playing slightly on his lips, as if he was all the sudden very much enjoying the fact that he was able to make me mad.  So now he was mocking me.  Great, I thought, witless doll am I?  I'll just show you how wrong you are.  He was still smiling when I glared at him and walked out of the classroom.

What an ass!  I thought to myself as I stormed from the building.  A painfully honest ass, yes, but an ass nonetheless.