Stepping foot on campus as a freshman college student was certainly thrilling. Finally, I was away from my parents and all on my own. I already loved the freedom and couldn't wait for all the fun I was going to have.
The only real problem with college was the actual school part. I never really wanted to go to college in the first place, but in my family it was expected. Of course, I had no idea what I wanted to study, nor did I have any motivation to try to figure it out. I wasn't accomplishing much by being here truthfully, but hey, at least I wasn't the one paying for it.
I ended up filling my schedule up with a bunch of random classes that sounded easy enough to pass or were absolutely required to take. I really thought that after high school I'd never be forced to attend another math class again, but apparently I was wrong.
Still, I wasn't all too worried. I was far more excited about going off on my own in life and doing whatever the fuck I wanted. I could do stuff like drink and party with my friends every night if I wanted, and no one would be there to tell me that I needed to come home, or clean my room, or be more responsible.
The first week of college was really just for settling in. Classes hadn't started, and I didn't really know anybody yet, so I mainly hung around my dorm with my roommate, Ray. I had been friends with him since high school, so we were close enough to where we got along pretty well. Although, our personalities were drastically different, so we didn't always see eye-to-eye on everything.
"Did you buy all your textbooks yet?" Ray had asked me the night before classes started.
I chuckled, "Oh, I kinda forgot about that...".
Ray turned to face me with a shocked expression across his face, "Frank! You're going to need those! If your professor says they're required, you could fail the whole class if you don't bring them!
"Eh, I'll be fine," I smirked. "I'll just get them later. Honestly though, I don't see why we have to pay like, hundreds of dollars for a bunch of stupid books. Am I really going to learn that much from them? And what's even the point of paying for tuition then?"
"To pay for the school, obviously! Someone has to pay all those teachers."
Falling back onto my bed lazily, I joked, "Don't all those old guys already have enough money?"
Ray rolled his eyes at me as he sat down on his own bed, "They're not all old. There are a lot of cool, young ones too. I'm sure you'll end up liking them".
Again, I just laughed at his comment, "Yeah, right".
The next morning, classes began. Thankfully, I didn't have to get up until around noon for my very first class of the day. I purposely scheduled all my classes in the afternoon so I could sleep in. That was certainly another plus about college. Ray, of course, was already gone. He had scheduled all his classes super early in the day, claiming that he'd have the afternoons to himself that way. I thought that was dumb. It'd be too much like high school then, and I couldn't possibly go through that again.
Even though my classes were in the afternoon, I still was not in the mood to go to them when the time rolled around. Sure, I could just skip them, but it was the first day after all, so I figured that I better just go.
So, I forced myself to go to all my classes, but surprisingly, I wasn't too upset with them. They all seemed simple enough, and luckily, I only had to go to ones like math and science three days a week versus the five that I was used to. I also had a few one credit electives scattered around too, which were all one day a week. I didn't mind those. Really, there was only one class I was super pissed about having to take.
Art class.
I can't even begin to believe that an art class would be required. Math I guess I can understand, because it's all about calculating numbers and shit, but fucking art? When would I ever need to know how to draw in my life? And to make it worse, it was three days a week too! Why not one day, like all the electives?
So, originally, my thought was that it'd be best to just sign up for a simple 2D art class. Surely, it wouldn't be that hard. But apparently, it was a bigger deal than I thought. Immediately when I walked in, I felt out of place. Everyone had sketchbooks, art supplies or some sort of tablet to draw with. Meanwhile, I had absolutely nothing but a broken pencil. And all the other students looked so fancy, creative, and you know, artsy. Yet, I was over here in my sagging blue jeans, studded metal belt, baggy t-shirt, and jacket with the hood pulled up over my head.
Considering I had already walked all the way there from my dorm, I decided to stay for just this one class. Then, that night, I'd unenroll from it. Surely, there had to be some other sort of art class that wasn't... this.
When I went to pick a seat, I realized that my luck had somehow gotten even worse. Almost all of the seats had already been taken except for the ones in the very front. I sighed, slumping down into one of them. I hated being in the front. The teacher always caught you when you were getting off track, which was something I did a lot.
Speaking of the teacher, the man walked in moments after I had taken a seat. I didn't look up at him though, as I had decided to rest my head in my arms on the table while I pouted to myself. I was tired anyway, because it was getting late in the day, so maybe I'd be able rest my eyes a bit if the teacher just droned on about the syllabus or something. That's all I did in my other classes that day, yet none of them had cared that I was ignoring them.
"Good evening class," the art teacher said in a voice that was way too lively for a 7:00pm class. "My name is Professor Way. Welcome to 2D art class. Now, I'm sure many of you will take this class as a joke, but if you want to succeed, you actually have to try". Pacing around the room, he continued, "I run a very formal class. If you skip it more than three times, I will lower your grade. I don't care what your excuses are. An absence is an absence".
I mentally groaned. Great. A strict teacher. This guy couldn't possibly be serious. It was just a stupid art class! I couldn't wait to unenroll from it...
"In addition to that, I also expect your full attention when I'm teaching or giving you instructions, which includes right now".
Then, to my complete surprise, he then slapped something against my desk very harshly. I jumped, practically shitting my pants. As I looked up, I realized he had hit a retractable metal pointer stick down only inches away from my head. Glancing up at him, I was going to argue the fact that he could've been much more polite about getting me to listen, but I stopped myself.
The teacher before me certainly wasn't some old guy like all my other ones. He looked quite young honestly, surely not much older than I was. With jet-black hair that curled upwards at his shoulders, piercing hazel eyes, and a seemingly perfect facial structure and build, he was certainly hot for a teacher. I couldn't help but continue to stare.
The whole class was dead silent as he asked, "What's your name, young man?"
"Frank Iero," I answered, biting my lip as I looked him up and down again.
"Something tells me you're going to be a troublemaker, Mr. Iero," he joked, receiving a couple of giggles out of the class. "No dozing off in my class," he ordered, before continuing to pace around the room.
After that, I was suddenly much more interested in art class.