Chapter 3
The day between her classes with Dr. Tekkin were a nice relief. She had two classes, both seminars, which meant most the hours spent in them meant everyone was gathered around a table like King Arthur’s knights, debating freedom and justice, and all sorts of other righteous things.
“The Bill of Protection completely goes against everything outlined in the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence,” said a man in the class whose name was Erik. He had fire in his eyes that Alessia often found hard to meet, blinking her gaze away, pretending she had makeup in her eye that she desperately needed to banish. “Shifter rights are human rights.”
“Not when lawmakers can make the argument that ‘all men are created equal’ refers only to Nons,” Alessia said. “This is why we need to focus on getting more pro-shifter candidates in the Supreme Court where the debate on the meaning of the Constitution can take a national stage.”
“Congress knows that, which is why they cockblock our every attempt to do that,” he said.
“Eloquent way of putting it.”
The first class was meant to be an introduction, like everything else. But a half hour of discussing the syllabus turned into a full hour of Alessia and Erik going back and forth about how best to take on the bias in the branches of the government.
“You know you’re both on the same side, right?” said the only other boy in the class, after a while. “Stop yelling at each other.”
It didn’t stop Alessia from staring down Erik the rest of the class after they were finally forced to let others do the talking. She alternated between crossing her arms and taking feverish, angry notes when others spoke. She couldn’t bring herself to pull her gaze into his eyes, however. They were still a little too intense and she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of watching her break eye contact first. Others talked about less fiery topics, discussed the need to bring more shifter involvement and activities to campuses and schools for younger kids.
When Alessia left, she was in a bad mood. She was surrounded by assholes no matter what day of the week it was. Maybe Erik and Tekkin could get together and talk about how they both loved to hear themselves talk and pretend that they were right about virtually everything they said. They could have a group wank over how impressed they were with themselves and their opinions.
She ate in silence in one of the school canteens, ripping into her sandwich with her teeth and gnashing it down. She wasn’t even so hungry so much as she wanted to punch the nearest breakable object, preferably Erik’s head.
The next day brought nothing but the same when she walked into Tekkin’s class and took her seat. She managed to get herself a syllabus from his desk when she marched into office hours, took it, and walked out without a word. Today’s topic began the lecture on the history of the Civil Rights movement in America and how shifters had been both included and barred from the topic and the discussion therein. She knew plenty about this; she’d given a presentation on it in her undergrad classes, years ago.
“Welcome back to those of you that decided to continue with this class. Welcome period to those of you who are new,” Dr. Tekkin said, walking into the room.
He was dressed much the same as last time. The difference now was that the white t-shirt was replaced with an AC/DC one, torn in some places, and he wore a leather jacket over his clothes, shaking it off as he got to the podium. He tossed it on a chair and took out stacks of papers and binders from his bag, He dropped them on the wobbly desk next to his podium and put them in separate piles.
“Take one of each, we’ll be using them today,” he said, turning back around and beginning to write on the board.
Alessia got up and took each one, looking at the headings: December March, Equal Pay Act, and Is It Enough? She knew all these topics; she’d written about them before. She stood there, mouth opening and closing and debating saying something to him, but she turned away. She’d wait and see, bide her time from her spot in the corner. The less he knew about her plans, the better. This was a way of attacking, plans for a siege. She’d let him continue to think she was some idly child looking at making a difference with hashtags and filtered Instagram photos.
“The Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s United States is largely associated with the topic of race relations. It was, after all, a movement predominantly geared towards the treatment of blacks in America,” he said, writing some dates on the board. “To a lesser extent, gay rights, women’s rights, and even shifter rights were brought to the attention of the masses, but not in any real numbers that mattered.”
“Actually, sir,” Alessia said before she could stop herself; so much for playing it low and quiet. “It was during this time that the first shifter actor appeared on screen in a Non role and the first time a shifter was elected to public office—Carson City, Utah, Mayor Greta White.”
“I’m talking about large, bombastic movements here, Miss Monroe; try not to confuse the class,” he said, turning back to the board.
“Well, not everything has to be a massive protest or a show,” she said. “Some of the greatest strides towards anything happened quietly and slowly. Just look at Harriet Beecher Stowe and her effect on the—”
“it is easy for those in privileged positions to take the slow and easy route,” he said. “Those miniscule steps towards what some might label as ‘progress’ have served no real purpose as of right now, have they? We have shifter actors, shifter lawmakers, but shifter rights seem to be disappearing every day. Now, back to the lecture.”
She glared at him after that, not even bothering to pretend to take notes. She could feel the eyes of the students on her. In her periphery she’d seen their heads bouncing back and forth mechanically as they exchanged their arguments. Considering he had yet to introduce that he even had a teaching fellow, they probably thought she was some older, adult student with an attitude.
She tapped the end of her pen on the edge of her notebook as he rambled on up at the front of the classroom. She bit her lip, watching him color the strides towards progress over the decades as barely consequential blips on a cosmic timeline. He was so pessimistic she almost wanted to scream. How could anyone be so angry all the time? She understood the problems of the shifter culture, she’d lived them and took four years’ worth of courses on them. But this was a man refusing to see hope.
“That will be it for this week,” Tekkin said when he was done. “Check your calendars, your first essay is due at the end of next week.”
“Actually, professor, I was wondering if I might have a chance to talk to the class?” she said, feeling herself sweat as she stood, not waiting for his permission. “My name is Alessia Monroe and I’m your teaching fellow for this semester. I’m a PhD candidate in Shifter Culture and Studies. I’m going to hold office hours every week at three p.m. on Tuesdays in the Starbucks on campus. They can be whatever you need them to be—discussion sessions, question and answer, whatever. I hope to see you all there.”
With that, the students nodded and left the room. She did the same thing, not giving Tekkin the chance to say a word to her as her heels clicked with power against the floor, taking her out the door. She let out her held breath and tried to ignore the obvious pit stains forming under her arms. She actually did that. She hadn’t been planning on it. In fact, she really had no idea how to be a student teacher, but she hoped the look on his face when she stood to interrupt him was reward enough, even if not a single kid showed up to meet her at Starbucks.
Which, she would now spend her Tuesday afternoons in Starbucks. She’d have to budget that into her time and her wallet since her orders there easily stacked up to almost a hundred dollars a month on their coffee.
Maybe this semester wouldn’t be so bad after all, however.
#
“Get it, girl,” Trish said that night when she told her over that video chat. “Score one for the home team.”
“It would be an even bigger slap in the face if these kids actually showed up to my meetings but so far I’m not complaining,” she said.
“Next, we key his car and slash his tires.”
Alessia rolled her eyes. She was curled up on the couch in sweatpants, tea in her hand, the TV buzzing in the background with the sounds of whatever sitcom was on at eight p.m. on a Friday. Trish had a day full of callbacks and managed to not get tossed out of a single one by some bigoted director, at least to Alessia’s knowledge. Somehow she was pretty sure that even if it did happen again at this point, Trish wouldn’t tell her.
So they kept their conversation blissful while Alessia felt like she was on cloud nine. That feeling dissipated, however, when she opened her email to check it habitually for the third time in that hour, as she was always prone to do. There, waiting for her in her inbox, was an email from Professor Tekkin, telling her to meet him after class on Monday and nothing else. No greeting, no goodbye, no trace of friendliness, and it wasn’t a request. She gulped. That was one way a good mood could be ruined. But she kept quiet about it to Trish.