Persuade Me (Student/Teacher Relationship)

A Good Man Is Hard To Find

“So nice of you to join us Miss Evans,” Professor Garrett stated while snickering.

Sending him my infamous death glare, I straightened myself back out in my chair while attempting to look somewhat dignified.

“I do believe you have an essay due today Miss Evans, isn’t that correct?”

“Yes Professor Garrett,” I sneered while opening my folder and removing the essay.  I quickly handed it to him, careful to avoid any contact.  Just thinking about my skin coming into contact with his, was enough to make me want to upchuck.

“Thank you Miss Evans,” He said, his eyes briefly scanning the essay.  I could have sworn I saw amusement dancing in his eyes as he did so.  “This seems quite entertaining Miss Evans, I’m sure I’ll enjoy reading this very much.  Perhaps I’ll even share it with the class,” He said, smirking his annoying smirk all the while.

“Whatever.  Enjoy.  Was there anything else, or were you actually going to do your job sometime today?  I mean my parents are paying for this class, I’m sure they would be pissed if they knew you were wasting their money.” 

Sending me a scathing look to which I just rolled my eyes at while sending him my own smirk, he replied with a short, “Of course Miss Evans.”

Feeling somewhat victorious for once, I sat back in my chair while he began going over the short story we had finished for this class.  It was “A Good Man is Hard to Find” by Flannery O’Conner.  To say it was a disturbing piece would be the understatement of the century.  Oddly enough though, I really enjoyed it, which was surprising only because it was a story that Professor Garrett assigned. 

Yes, that was probably illogical.  I can’t hate every story he picks out, because obviously he didn’t write them.  I just really wanted to dislike the stories he chose.  It was immature of me and totally irrational, but what can I say?  The guy bugs me.

Deciding to tune back in I realized that they were discussing the religious aspects of the story, and couldn’t help but think that religion obviously didn’t save the family in this story.

“So what were your thoughts on the end when grandma was begging for her life?  She exclaimed, and I quote, "Why you’re one of my babies. You’re one of my own children!" and then she reaches out and touches The Misfit.

I heard from someone from the back say, “I still thought she wasn’t being completely sincere.  She was just trying to save her own ass.  I didn’t feel bad at all when he shot her.”

Silently I nodded and agreed.  Grandma was definitely deserving of what she got the racist, hypocritical hag.

My mind wandered to The Misfit’s closing quote, "She would have been a good woman, if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life."  I couldn’t help the snicker that escaped as I related it to Professor Garrett and Scott.  ‘They could have been good men, if it had been somebody there to shoot them every minute of their lives,’ I thought letting out a snort I imagined being the person to do that.  (A/N The Misfit is the “bad guy” in the story.  If you haven’t read Flannery O’Connor’s work you should, though I don’t recommend it to the faint hearted, lol.)

“Was there something you would like to add to the discussion Miss Evans?”

Snapping out of my daydream of being the female version of  The Misfit, I glanced over to Professor Garrett who was sending me a questioning look, “No sir, just agreeing with that other kid.”

“Well next time why don’t you silently agree, unless you have something useful to add to the discussion?”

Scowling slightly in his direction, it quickly changed to a smirk as I couldn’t help but wonder what he would have to say about my little daydream.

*                *                      *                      *                      *

When class finally ended after what seemed like a century, I abruptly stood from my chair and made a speedy exit.  I really didn’t want him to try to keep me behind again.  The less time I was around Professor Garrett, the better for my blood pressure.  I didn’t need to be on medication for high blood pressure at seventeen, and I had a feeling he could make that happen.

Making my way back to my dorm since my next class wasn’t for an hour I heard someone shout for me to stop.  Recognizing the voice as Ryan’s I slowed to a stop, tapping my foot impatiently while waiting for him to catch up.

“Why the hasty retreat?  I thought I was gonna keel over trying to catch up with you there, speed racer,” Ryan said while dramatically clutching his chest and gasping for air.  Seeing as he worked out and was on the football team, therefore was a hell of a lot more fit than me I rolled my eyes and chuckled at his theatrics. 

Faking concern I widened my eyes and replied, “I’m so sorry Ryan!  I didn’t realize you had become such an unfit fatty in the week that we’ve been attending college!  Do you think you need an intervention?  I’m sure everyone would be very supportive!”

Casting me a playful glare he responded with a dry, “Haha, aren’t you the comedian no one finds funny?”

Mock gasping, I pretended to pout.  “Well some people enjoy my witty repartee.”

“No they don’t.  They just don’t want to hurt your feelings,” He said with a smirk.

“You don’t mean that,” I gasped. “Take it back!”

“No can do.”

“Ryan you take that back or I’ll…” Racking my brain I tried to come up with some form of black mail.

“You’ll what?  Tell my mommy and daddy on me?  You gonna be a tattle tale Misty Christy?”

“I-I… Hey! I told you not to call me that!”  I hated that nickname, and the implication that I was a crybaby! “You take that back,” I shouted.

Slowly he shook his head in disappointment, “Now you’re just repeating yourself.”  Sending me an evil look he continued, “It’s sad that you can’t even be original anymore…”

“You take-“

“Yeah, I know.  You take that back,” He mocked me in a high pitched girly voice, making me bust out laughing.

“Hahaha!!! You s-sounded l-like a-a c-chick!!!”  Attempting to control my laughter, while gasping for air I asked, “Is there something you need to tell me, princess?”

Chuckling, he responded using his chick voice again, “Wouldn’t you like to know?" Which caused me to lose it all over again, looking like a lunatic as I clutched my stomach and dropped to my knees in the middle of the hallway.

I could hear Ryan laughing at me, and thought that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all as long as I had him and Leslie to help get me through it and keep me somewhat sane.

YAY!!!! I updated again!!! So quick bit of seriousness, all quotes from “A Good Man is Hard to Find” respectfully belong to the late great Flannery O’Connor.  Again, if you haven’t read her work you should.  It’s seriously twisted. ;D

You know what else I’d welcome?  Comments and votes.  Fanning would just be a bonus. ;)

Feel free to do all three though, I won’t mind… :D

Pic of Ryan!!! Over there!!!------------>