[ tim keeps his eyes glued to his hands, fingers picking idly at some of the leather's facing that has begun to chip and peel. he leaves little brown flecks everywhere he goes these days, but the bag only has to make it one more year. one more year and he'll be able to apply for internships, get out in the world and try to do something more with himself than starve and fuck himself on camera every night.
fuller mentions his paper and his eyes pop up at that, his brow dipping again, his lips pulling. ]
The topic was boring. I copied my notes nearly verbatim and it got me an A.
[ and the first tasks of a semester usually are simpler - a warmup for students coming back after a long stretch away. but the lack of challenge had been infuriating when he's already got so little to bump up against. his course load is no different this semester than last - he can handle the work, the stress, the pressure. but he can't handle everything else. ]
And I'm sorry if you felt I've left you hanging. I wasn't aware I had that sort of responsibility. None of the other students are expected to participate the way that I have - I just...
[ he shakes his head, taking in a slow, deep breath and trying to center himself again. professional. calm. polite. metered and measured and carefully doled out. ]
And Vietnam itself is too broad a topic to engage on in a fifty minute lecture. Why would I waste valuable time broaching that topic when I'd be the only one in the room speaking?
[ professional. calm. polite. he repeats it like a mantra as he takes another breath but something gets away from him when professor fuller insists again on getting rest. what is rest, when one's whole world depends on fundraising to make it to the next semester? every moment is a race, a dash to the finish just to try and make it, when so many of the students around him come from old money and the who-knows-who of academia. ]
And I'll admit I'm frankly surprised you didn't fail this paper as well. I made a point to be as neutral as I could be. No real creative thinking, no out of the box theorizing. Nothing that could be called naive or idealistic - Vietnam would be a bad topic. Too polarizing, especially now that we have technology to look back on our strategies and weaponization.
[ he shrugs again, shifting to the edge of his seat, his knee bouncing absently. he opens up his satchel and draws out his notebook from class, rifling through it until he peels out the essay he'd been handed back today. if hawk peeks, he can see tim's questions blotted in the margins - vietnam circled with bullet points underneath - the old tim written out in ink instead of spoken out loud.
he reaches to set the paper on professor fuller's desk. ]
Your syllabus for this was too vague. If you truly wanted my opinion, I'd have failed this assignment as well. I don't speak up in class because I don't see a need to - it isn't personal, professor. I want to talk about the world I want to see, and maybe that's not realistic. Maybe that's childish, but if this is what you want, then you should keep this.
[ he closes his notebook, his satchel, and rises. ]
I have to go. The shuttle doesn't come to my dorm after lunch, and I have to get back there and up the hill again. I can't be late.
no subject
fuller mentions his paper and his eyes pop up at that, his brow dipping again, his lips pulling. ]
The topic was boring. I copied my notes nearly verbatim and it got me an A.
[ and the first tasks of a semester usually are simpler - a warmup for students coming back after a long stretch away. but the lack of challenge had been infuriating when he's already got so little to bump up against. his course load is no different this semester than last - he can handle the work, the stress, the pressure. but he can't handle everything else. ]
And I'm sorry if you felt I've left you hanging. I wasn't aware I had that sort of responsibility. None of the other students are expected to participate the way that I have - I just...
[ he shakes his head, taking in a slow, deep breath and trying to center himself again. professional. calm. polite. metered and measured and carefully doled out. ]
And Vietnam itself is too broad a topic to engage on in a fifty minute lecture. Why would I waste valuable time broaching that topic when I'd be the only one in the room speaking?
[ professional. calm. polite. he repeats it like a mantra as he takes another breath but something gets away from him when professor fuller insists again on getting rest. what is rest, when one's whole world depends on fundraising to make it to the next semester? every moment is a race, a dash to the finish just to try and make it, when so many of the students around him come from old money and the who-knows-who of academia. ]
And I'll admit I'm frankly surprised you didn't fail this paper as well. I made a point to be as neutral as I could be. No real creative thinking, no out of the box theorizing. Nothing that could be called naive or idealistic - Vietnam would be a bad topic. Too polarizing, especially now that we have technology to look back on our strategies and weaponization.
[ he shrugs again, shifting to the edge of his seat, his knee bouncing absently. he opens up his satchel and draws out his notebook from class, rifling through it until he peels out the essay he'd been handed back today. if hawk peeks, he can see tim's questions blotted in the margins - vietnam circled with bullet points underneath - the old tim written out in ink instead of spoken out loud.
he reaches to set the paper on professor fuller's desk. ]
Your syllabus for this was too vague. If you truly wanted my opinion, I'd have failed this assignment as well. I don't speak up in class because I don't see a need to - it isn't personal, professor. I want to talk about the world I want to see, and maybe that's not realistic. Maybe that's childish, but if this is what you want, then you should keep this.
[ he closes his notebook, his satchel, and rises. ]
I have to go. The shuttle doesn't come to my dorm after lunch, and I have to get back there and up the hill again. I can't be late.