Scuttle Buttin'
Demons at bay
- Joined
- Apr 27, 2003
- Posts
- 15,881
Teaching Early American History at a small liberal arts college was not quite how he saw his life unfolding. The only son of an anthropologist and a biologist, a life in the sciences had been envisioned for him since before he was even conceived, and for much of his life he had even bought into it, even going so far as to declare physics his major during his first year of college. The most he learned about physics that first year was that gravity pulled you to the earth upon losing your balance just as well when you were drunk as it did when you were sober, and much to the chagrin of both parents he changed his major before he could repeat the mistake his Sophomore year.
Decades of being shoehorned into a field he had no true passion or aptitude for left him without direction, and much like a sailboat without a sail, he drifted where the currents took him. A girl he was sleeping with was a history major, with an eye towards teaching, and so he went along happily, changing his major to fit with hers. In truth, he was far more interested in the place where he thighs met than the place where Grant and Lee met to end the Civil War. Still, it was a direction, and the disapproval of his parents felt somehow freeing, so even after he and the girl were no longer sharing a bed four nights a week, he stuck with it.
Graduate school followed, and it was there that he met the woman that would become his wife. They were married just after he received his teaching certificate, and within the year he had a position at UC Davis, though only as an adjunct professor. His parents, both with tenure at UC Berkley, visited often, and even they could sense the building strain in the relationship as that first year of teaching progressed. The pair were divorced within two years of marrying, and he fled to the east coast, happy to escape the disapproving looks of his parents and the chance that he might run into her and the guy she had been fucking for the last three months of their relationship.
It was then, at last, that life settled into something resembling normalcy. He found a position with a small but quality school not far from the coast, and with no wife to worry about, he threw himself completely into his work. In time, he was teaching a full load of classes, and working his way toward being a tenured professor and having a real sense of security. It wasn't quite his passion, but it was the closest he'd found, and he was, at least, happy.
This spring semester found him with a late class on Tuesday and Thursday, a long session that was scheduled to end at 5:45 but that he suspected would be done by 5:30 at the latest most days. The students weren't the only ones anxious to get out and soak up some of the sun that had abandoned them for so long, and the lengthening days and warming weather offered the perfect opportunity to do just that.
It was for this reason that he stood before the assembled class as sunlight filtered in through the windows, the clock barely stretching towards twenty minutes after five, and surprised them all by announcing that that was all he had for them for the day. He was dressed casually, as much as he allowed himself to, tan slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms and a light blue tie that he'd loosened hours earlier, and while there was still a bit of chill in the air, he was ready to go. A glass of wine and a stack of tests from an earlier class were waiting for him, the exciting life of a university professor.
"Look over what you missed on the test and study up on it, because it almost certainly will be on the final," he said, folding his laptop closed. "And you can catch me after class, or my office hours, if you have any questions about any of it. See you next week, everyone."
And with a nod, Damien Collins strode to his desk in the corner to begin collecting his own things.
Decades of being shoehorned into a field he had no true passion or aptitude for left him without direction, and much like a sailboat without a sail, he drifted where the currents took him. A girl he was sleeping with was a history major, with an eye towards teaching, and so he went along happily, changing his major to fit with hers. In truth, he was far more interested in the place where he thighs met than the place where Grant and Lee met to end the Civil War. Still, it was a direction, and the disapproval of his parents felt somehow freeing, so even after he and the girl were no longer sharing a bed four nights a week, he stuck with it.
Graduate school followed, and it was there that he met the woman that would become his wife. They were married just after he received his teaching certificate, and within the year he had a position at UC Davis, though only as an adjunct professor. His parents, both with tenure at UC Berkley, visited often, and even they could sense the building strain in the relationship as that first year of teaching progressed. The pair were divorced within two years of marrying, and he fled to the east coast, happy to escape the disapproving looks of his parents and the chance that he might run into her and the guy she had been fucking for the last three months of their relationship.
It was then, at last, that life settled into something resembling normalcy. He found a position with a small but quality school not far from the coast, and with no wife to worry about, he threw himself completely into his work. In time, he was teaching a full load of classes, and working his way toward being a tenured professor and having a real sense of security. It wasn't quite his passion, but it was the closest he'd found, and he was, at least, happy.
This spring semester found him with a late class on Tuesday and Thursday, a long session that was scheduled to end at 5:45 but that he suspected would be done by 5:30 at the latest most days. The students weren't the only ones anxious to get out and soak up some of the sun that had abandoned them for so long, and the lengthening days and warming weather offered the perfect opportunity to do just that.
It was for this reason that he stood before the assembled class as sunlight filtered in through the windows, the clock barely stretching towards twenty minutes after five, and surprised them all by announcing that that was all he had for them for the day. He was dressed casually, as much as he allowed himself to, tan slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms and a light blue tie that he'd loosened hours earlier, and while there was still a bit of chill in the air, he was ready to go. A glass of wine and a stack of tests from an earlier class were waiting for him, the exciting life of a university professor.
"Look over what you missed on the test and study up on it, because it almost certainly will be on the final," he said, folding his laptop closed. "And you can catch me after class, or my office hours, if you have any questions about any of it. See you next week, everyone."
And with a nod, Damien Collins strode to his desk in the corner to begin collecting his own things.