Rendezvous II
Copyright© 2017 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 13
Karen
I AM so glad I didn’t buy school clothes.
In my first week as a freshman, I have noticed there are TWO types of women attending classes; those who view college as grade 13 in high school and those who were ignored by the clique when they were seniors. Grade 13 insists on class order: she who commands the lunchroom commands the school.
You can sit with us.
You can’t sit with us.
You can sit with the jocks.
You belong with the stoners.
EWW! Nerds!
Those girls dressed ... fashionably. If it was “in style” for their age group, one of them was wearing it ... the others were”Autumn.” Russets; latte, caramel. Orange; sienna, persimmon; the yellows; Flax, butter, lemon, mustard, corn, dandelion, fire, butterscotch, honey, tuscan. The reds.
I am so glad I didn’t have time ... and I like Carhartts ... and bibs and jeans and wool shirts and boots.
The others have no time for a repeat of high school. Most of the girls who recognize that the Nerds and Geeks are going to be the salvation of the country.
I was the only girl taking a class in machine tools. Even though I was as pretty as the Grade 13 women, I wasn’t interested in High School as a repeat offender. Besides, I was teaching ... yup. Vintage Gunsmithing 101.
Here’s how it works; you’re interested in a subject but there’s no instructor. There’s a Bulletin Board of Prospective Classes. Classes that some student would like to get credit for teaching. Macramé comes to mind. Tye Dye is another. If six people express an interest and sign up the progenitor of said class finds space and organizes it. The classes are generally at night. Some classes require that attendees supply their own materials. I posted:
FLINTLOCK RIFLE
A Journey into the Past
Make Your Own Flintlock Rifle
Build from Parts or from Scratch
Interested? Sign Up!
I have space. I have the necessary tools. There is a book, FOXFIRE 5. Not only is it in the school library, the Bookstore carries the set!
Holy Crap! I have interest! SEVEN! Seven people signed the prospective tender.
I went to Amy with the list. I figure this is mostly her fault anyway. She looked up particulars on her computer and proceeded to call each prospective participant. On confirmation she gave them my phone number. Then she called Dean Davis ... I mean, she swiveled in her chair and hollered, “Doctor Davis.”
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