Wanda sighed. Another day. Another 1 P.M.. class. Luckily, this one was a good one. She taught in a decent sized lecture hall, but her earlier classes were smaller. This one, somehow, only had 24 students in it which was perfect. Manageable but not too small that she felt like her Rate My Professor rating might be too low. The students were also great at engaging in discussion, debate, and their work was good. Most of them.

But most of all (even if she hadn’t fully admitted it to herself) you were in it. Smart, thoughtful you. The person whose essays were smart and thought out but not perfect yet. The person who tried to participate as much as she could, especially when the class was quiet. Wanda had a sneaking suspicion it was because you hated the awkward silence when no one would talk and you just wanted it to go away. She thought you were sweet, and a lot of the times found herself thinking about you. But she shook those thoughts away. She was a teacher.

Speaking of, class was about to start. She began organizing her notes as students began trickling in. Everyone greeted her in various moods.