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[ndakfn than k you very much bby!

#hearts all over #thepedanticprofessor #;Answered #;Meme

For a moment, he is stricken. He’s on the fence, a split choice between yelling at her and stuttering into silence. He’s learned though: backing away from Tara only sets out to provoke her to continue. He took note of that much when she had accused him of ;enjoying getting handsy with his students’. He’d panicked - and she’d found it nothing short of amusing.

“…I’m sorry?” he asks. Perhaps he didn’t hear her right. Or perhaps he was supposed to say something intelligent in response, make her laugh. He was never sure with her. Never sure. "I… what would you have me do? I don’t understand."

t-chambler-archived

"You keep staring at me with those hungry eyes. This ain't Dirty Dancing." She stands from her desk and walks around it, so she can sit on top of it. She props herself up with the palms of her hands, fingers tapping the lacquered wood.

"I think you find me attractive. And quite honestly, it's distracting."

#there are tears #thepedanticprofessor #v; college

whisper (why not)

“Let’s get out of here.”

Max would nod his head in the direction of the door. There had to be a lot more entertaining things to do outside of sitting in the school. "Besides, aren't you finished teaching for today?"

#thepedanticprofessor

thepedanticprofessor

The question is striking and he’s on his feet in seconds, putting at least a length of the room’s distance between them. It’s not like him to lose his cool, and it’s certainly not like him to allow impulsive panic take over his system - but the note-taking, the comments… it’s all so much like her.

"N-No, of course not." He’s not sure how he remained so cool when it happened the first time around; on reflection, he’d been calm until the bitter end. Rebuilding his life had been hell though. "I just— I forget my audience sometimes." He feels the slip of an apology on the tip of his tongue, another one, a more excessive one, but he swallows it down and refuses to let it come out. He takes a few steps closer so that he’s able to see the words on her paper.

His eyes avert to the note-pad, obviously suspicious. “You’re taking notes on my lesson, right?”

Eyes narrowed and lips parted as if she was about to speak, but she fell short. John wasn't acting like himself tonight and it made the woman sit a bit uneasily. There was just an odd atmosphere lingering around them, "I didn't mean to offend you," she finally spoke.

"I forget my audience all the time. Yeah," She nodded as if to reassure him that she was speaking the truth, "I've got a damn mouth on me. And I forget that when my little niece is around. My sister's always riding my ass about my language."

She looked down her nose at the note-pad that laid idly in front of her, "No, John. I'm writing a mission statement on how to cure the zombie virus-" Then, she was back to rolling her eyes, "Of course it's your lesson. Don't get jealous. I only have eyes for your work." She exaggerated.

#These two have a very odd dynamic and I really enjoy it #thepedanticprofessor #v; college

Clara had been told to go through employee files for the teachers and clean up. Some had non-useful notes in them, among other things. She was supposed to take them all out and then organize them by last name as well. It was a free day, but the teachers still had to be at the school. She'd finished her own personal work, so she'd offered to help the ladies in the office. They always seemed so overworked, so they deserved a little bit of the pressure off their backs. She was going through the files when she saw John's. She opened it of course. She had to comb through it and clean it up. What she saw when she opened it though, shocked her. She almost couldn't believe it. She couldn't stop herself from reading it. She had to ask him, she had to hear it from him. With the file tucked under her arm, she slipped out. She made her way to his classroom and knocked, standing in the doorway. "Can we talk John?" she asked softly. thepedanticprofessor

#thepedanticprofessor

thepedanticprofessor:

"But you are behind - you’re not doing enough, never mind too much. I think you’ll find you do more work if you don’t understand the content. More catch-up, more tedious re-dos. At least, if you read the book and understand the concepts, you can do the coursework and then be out if that’s what you want.”

Despite most of his other teaching techniques, this statement is not said to provoke but to enlighten. It stands to reason that the majority of the work will be done through the process of her own mind, understanding it, rather than throwing irrelevant sentences together and hoping for the best. He’s bargaining, he knows that, but she’s a free person - he’s just trying to get around her affinity to cause trouble.

“Tell me,” John says, pulling a chair from the opposite desk and sitting on the other end of the table, spreading the book open. He points to the main concept of discussion in class - education, and the limited ‘rewards’ of it - and circles it with his finger. "What is so difficult here? What do you not understand?"

She understood that he was a professor, but she did not appreciate the way he was lecturing her. Sure, she deserved it. This whole year she had been nothing but difficult. She allowed her family matters to hinder her learning experience. By being rebellious, it kept her from crying. And Tara Chambler did not cry.

"Look," Tara began, but she really didn't have anything clever to say. She didn't have a reason. An excuse, "It's not you. It's me." her voice with lined with sarcasm, "I'm allergic to boring books." She was far too old to be acting like this. Perhaps it was youngest child syndrome.

It wasn't that dhe didn't understand the material. She just didn't care. At all.

"What I don't understand is - why you always have to be a hard ass all the time."

#you can throw Tara wherever. She likes traveling through verses haha she gets tired of the zombies #thepedanticprofessor #v; college

Let Me Educate You || University AU || Closed

thepedanticprofessor

It hadn't been long since the young woman had started at the university, studying in the fields of creative arts and music in the hope of one day becoming a teacher of these subjects herself. It had been difficult, leaving her family to attend a university in the big city, but it had been worth it, she had met so many people, done so much already.

But sometimes she just needed downtime.

That's what Leah was doing in the art room, music playing softly from the corner as her brush glided effortlessly across the canvas. She found the atmosphere surrounding her calming, it helped her relax. So she was irritated when the door opened.

"There are no more classes in here today." She told the intruder matter - of - factly, her voice holding the sharp edge of one who did not like to be disturbed.