Although it is sometime forgotten, the primary purpose for the existence of universities is to teach, passing on the knowledge of the past to future generations. Consequently, but also often forgotten, the primary activity of students is classes and related studying. On Thursday morning, the first classes of the fall semester met at the University of Clifton.
In what would become a regular pattern, Bryce and Curtis met and walked to the fitness center together that morning, arriving shortly after the place opened at 6:30. They were surprised to find at the entrance, checking student IDs, their fraternity brother Kurt Bordenkircher.
“Hey, Kurt,” Bryce called out. “Got yourself a new job?”
“Nah. Just subbing for a buddy. Members of the team are not allowed jobs during season,” Kurt replied.
“Oh, yeah, you’re on the football team,” Bryce remembered. “What’s the season look like?”
“We’re in pretty good shape. Been here a month already – pre-season warm up. We should do better than last year. Everyone will turn out for the first game on Saturday, right?” Kurt asked, directing his question to Curtis.
“Absolutely,” Curtis replied. “Same as last year.”
An hour and a half later, the two guys made their way back to the Caldwell house, where they parted. Bryce woke Damon, who no longer needed a long-distance awakening by water pistol. The experience of traveling and sleeping with Bryce that summer was evidently the last experience needed to wean him from his automatic defense upon awakening. Bryce hugged himself as he quietly appreciated this sign that his partner was better off emotionally than he was at this time last year. Damon, totally unaware of his role in his boyfriend’s thoughts, went to fix breakfast while Bryce got dressed for the day. He was trying out a different way of fixing eggs, called poached, which he learned from Caroline the previous day. They turned out great. Damon seemed to have a real knack for cooking, unlike his partner.
After a fine breakfast Bryce was allowed to clear off, putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher, while Damon got himself ready for the day. Then they headed for campus. On Tuesday and Thursday mornings, they had the same class. This was the Art History class which had caused both of them to have to check in with their academic advisors, substituted for another Humanities elective by computer after their return from Europe. Damon was absolutely certain he would ace the class after all the painting, sculpture, and architecture he had absorbed on their European tour in June and July. They made their way to the Matthew Jouett Art Center, located not far from the Stephen Collins Foster Memorial Auditorium where they had enjoyed several musical offerings last year.
After getting settled in their classroom, they met their art teacher for the first time. The art historian was a woman named Dr. Elaine Padgett, probably in her early fifties, with a direct, straight-forward attitude. She explained the requirements for the course, including a short outside paper, and gave a brief introduction, during which she advanced the theory that the art of a time was an accurate indicator of the quality of life during that time. Therefore, one could kind of determine the quality of life in, say, Renaissance Italy around 1450, by studying the art of that period and place.
Dr. Padgett then asked whether any of the students had any experience of great art.
Damon’s hand immediately shot up. He was so eager that Dr. Padgett called on him first. “Bryce and I,” he said, indicating the person next to him, “spent seven weeks in Europe this past summer, and we saw lots and lots of art – paintings, sculptures, and buildings. It was a real eye-opener.”
“Thank you. You are?” Dr. Padgett asked.
“Damon Watson,” he replied.
“Thank you, Mr. Watson. I hope every student in the class becomes as enthusiastic as you by the time we reach December,” she said.
After that several other students mentioned their experiences, although one girl’s comments about the quilt show at the county fair resulted in a brief statement that there was a difference between great art and the crafts. The class came to an end after only about 40 minutes, although normally it would last 80 minutes. That was par for the course for the first day of classes, though.
As they left the Jouett Center, they encountered Caroline Koehler again. She had a music class in the neighboring building, as that was her major subject. In her usual breathless manner, Caroline informed them that the musical performed by the School of Music this term would be How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. The faculty member who was responsible for what Caroline called ‘musical theatre’ was of the opinion that her students needed to be familiar with the classics in the genre, and as long as the productions broke even financially, the Administration supported her. The music was by Frank Loesser, with book by a consortium of Abe Burrows, Jack Weinstock, and Willie Gilbert. The original Broadway production was in 1961, but many more people were familiar with the film version of 1967, starring Robert Morse and Rudy Vallee. Caroline informed the duo that the performances were scheduled for November 19-21, December 3-5, and December 10-12, each of these weekends consisting of a Friday and Saturday evening performance and a Sunday matinée. The gap was necessitated by the Thanksgiving break coming from November 24 to 28. She giggled when she said she did not think students would return to campus for the show on the weekend after Thanksgiving. That was something else new about Caroline. She never used to giggle – at least not last year when Bryce and Damon came to know her. She obviously expected them to attend, so Bryce noted the dates. The three of them walked to the University Center, where they spent the time until their next class, which would be after lunch. They staked out a table on the patio and made use of the concessions on the lower level for lunch, but mostly they talked about everything and nothing, simply enjoying their friendship.
As a result of their location on the patio, they missed the ‘incident’ in the cafeteria on the ground floor that day. It seems that Lomax and Campbell attempted to take over a table in the cafeteria when it got crowded about a quarter past noon. The students who were already at that table protested, and an altercation ensued. It reached the point where Campus Security was called in, with the two bullies escorted out of the building in what everyone else saw as disgrace, but they were impervious to the opinions of others. They threatened to sue the Campus Security personnel involved.
After lunch, Bryce and Damon went their separate ways. Bryce had his class in the History of the Italian Renaissance at 1:30, whereas Damon had his Spanish class beginning at one o’clock, the other reason for seeing his advisor yesterday. Damon decided he needed to supplement what he had picked up at home, and what he had learned last year from Mike Sandoval, with formal instruction in Spanish. His vocabulary was erratic and his grammar weak. He took a placement test last week, and as a result was in Spanish 201, Intermediate Spanish, which met four times during the week, from one to two on every day except Fridays. One of those days would be spent in the language lab, interacting with recordings of conversations in Spanish.
Bryce, meanwhile, would be in his History 411 class taught by Dr. Belzi, the instructor about whom he had been warned by Dr. Dickinson. That class was scheduled for 1:30 to 3:00 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. With just a little bit of trepidation, Bryce entered and got settled before the class began. There were fifteen students – he counted them – in the class when the Professor walked in. Dr. Belzi was a man in his late forties. He was a rugged looking individual, apparently in top physical shape, with greying hair. He had fierce dark eyes, and a Mediterranean complexion. He called roll, then passed out the syllabus and requirements for the class, noting that this information was also available on line. He spoke with what it turned out was a New Jersey accent. Not surprisingly, this class would require a term paper. At this initial meeting, at least, although Dr. Belzi seemed a bit abrupt, there was nothing about which to complain. Bryce left the class feeling pretty positive, and withdrew to the library to consider various possibilities for his term paper topic.
There, in the European history section of the library, he came across a book by someone named G. J. Meyer entitled The Borgias: the Hidden History, which had just been published earlier that year.[1] On the flyleaf the book was introduced with the words, “the startling truth behind one of the most notorious dynasties in history is revealed,” and then goes on to ask, “but did these Borgias of legend actually exist?” That seemed like an interesting topic. Bryce was familiar with the standard version of the Borgia story, so maybe he could find out something more. In addition, he had been forewarned by Dr. Dickinson that Dr. Belzi would bring out all the worst of the Renaissance papacy, so this would kind of preempt him. After an hour or so, Bryce had enough information to present a viable term paper topic at the next class meeting.
Later, returning to the apartment, Bryce discovered Damon in the kitchen in close conversation with Caroline. His partner was taking seriously his role as the chef of the household, wanting to learn more than the simple things he could already prepare. Caroline was in her element, instructing others in a step by step approach to something. Bryce stopped in to say hello, but quickly took advantage of his non-cooking status to retreat to the library. Actually, they had not fully decided on what to call that room, so sometimes it came out as library, other times as study, and still other times as the office. In any case, Bryce decided to utilize Damon’s absorption in the kitchen to continue his search through the obituaries in Chicago newspapers. The last quarter century or so were all available on line, and in some instances even earlier. He still did not find anything in the time available, but there were a few encouraging points. Most of the obits listed the children of the deceased, and some also listed parents, siblings, and other relatives. If he ever found a Watson, it could be a valuable starting point.
After a while, Damon summoned him to the kitchen, where the three of them enjoyed country fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans. Damon was so obviously proud of himself at having prepared this meal, even though under Caroline’s direction, that Bryce thought he was impossibly sexy, and wished Caroline would go away. He regretted his impulse, knowing that Caroline was trying to help them, but he felt that way anyway. By the time Caroline did leave, the impulse had passed, so Bryce and Damon spent a couple of hours playing video games before turning in. There, the impulse came back, so it was a while after going to bed before either of them got any sleep.
The next morning Bryce regaled Curtis with tales of Damon’s culinary accomplishments. Curtis responded with his own stories about Maddy and him in the kitchen, at which, Bryce blushed to learn, Curtis was more help to Maddy than he was to Damon. At least, there were no more smoke alarms going off.
As Bryce left for his nine o’clock French class, Damon remaining at home as he did not have a class until ten, he noticed two guys leaving the carriage house at the end of the property. These must be the renters whom he had not yet met, so he stalled, waiting for them to catch him up, then greeted them.
“Hi, guys! I’m Bryce Winslow. I guess we’re sort of neighbors, as my partner and I have rented a unit on the second floor here.”
“Uh, yeah. Hi. I’m Barry Miller, and this is Sean Rollins. We have the carriage house apartment. What’s your major?”
“I’m in History,” Bryce replied. “How about you?”
“I’m in Biology, with an emphasis in Environmental Studies,” Barry said.
“Me, I’m in Business Management,” Sean added.
“I generally walk to the campus, and I have a nine o’clock class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Will I be seeing you guys on a regular basis?” Bryce asked.
They looked at each other. “Not sure. We’re kind of trying out a couple of scenarios,” Barry said.
“Hey, I just remembered, I forgot my notebook. I’ll have to go back for it,” Sean said, turning back towards the carriage house.
“Guess I’d better help him find it or we’ll never get to class on time,” Barry said, and walked off with Sean.
That seemed odd to Bryce. There was something hesitant or guarded about those two. For a minute or two, he wondered whether he neglected to brush his teeth that morning, but as time was passing, he shrugged his shoulders and made his way to campus.
In Dumesnil Hall, Bryce found his way to the classroom where his French class was scheduled to meet. This semester he was signed up for a class in French Classicism, more or less the literature from the mid seventeenth to the mid eighteenth century. As he walked into the room, Bryce noted that Marc Rimbault was also in this class. He went up to where he was seated, and took the next desk.
“Hi, Marc.”
“Bon jour, Bryce. Comment ça va?” Marc responded.
They continued their conversation in French. “I see you’re still here. I guess your father did not get transferred again,” Bryce said.
“Even if he did, I think I’d still be here. I like this place better than any of the others I’ve tried,” Marc replied.
“I saw your sister the other day,” Bryce informed him.
“I know. She told me. You and Damon are in Dr. Caldwell’s place this term, right?” Marc said.
“Yeah, right. We’re on the second floor. I met Annette and Ken on Wednesday. I understand they’ve been there since January, and they seem to like it,” Bryce noted.
“Yeah. Old Dr. Caldwell is a pretty cool guy. Don’t be surprised if you get invited to tea,” Marc chuckled.
“Tea?”
“Yeah. He likes to have his renters in for a light snack in the afternoon. I think he gets lonely. And there really is tea,” Marc grinned. He switched back to English. “Annette thinks he’s a teddy bear – her words. Ken says he’s bonkers. Seems he has some weird ideas, so you’d probably like him, as you have some pretty weird ideas yourself,” Marc proclaimed.
Bryce was unable to defend himself, as Dr. Anjot entered the room at that point to begin the first class of the semester. Much like last year, the professor handed out his syllabus, which listed the works the students were expected to read in French, and the order in which each would be discussed in class. Also like last year, Dr. Anjot intended to conduct this advanced class in French. From the survey of literature last year, Bryce was at least familiar with the major names and works involved, but of course this class would be more intense, and would involve more analysis of the works. They were, however, to begin on Monday with writers he was not familiar with at all, Madeleine de Scudéry (1607-1701) and Cyrano de Bergerac (1619-1655). Dr. Anjot explained that French Classicism arose as a reaction to what was seen as the excesses of earlier writers, and so a sampling of those earlier writers was called for. Entirely as expected, there would be a term paper required in this class. Based on his familiarity from last year, Bryce was considering something involving Racine.
After class, Bryce asked Marc, “Will you be organizing a study group for this class?”
“Probably. I think it was helpful last time. You interested?” Marc asked.
“Definitely. You’re a history major, too, so what history are you taking this term?”
“I’ve got Dr. Howard for the American Colonial class and Dr. Belzi for the Italian Renaissance,” Marc replied. “You?”
“I’m in the Renaissance class, too, but I didn’t see you there yesterday,” Bryce said.
Marc grinned widely. “Remember what you pulled with the Georgian England class last spring? Well, I just pulled a Bryce. I’m Dr. Belzi’s advisee, and I went to see him on Wednesday and got all the handouts, so I didn’t have to actually attend class with all you peons.”
Bryce grinned, but shoved Marc, who replied in kind. That might have continued for some time, except that Bryce caught sight of a large clock on display in the hall, and panicked, “Oh, geez! I’ve got one minute to get to my next class!” He took off running as Marc laughed.
Bryce arrived late to his class on English Literature of the Restoration. This class was taught by Dr. Eleanor Meade Drake, the same professor who had taught the Milton class last fall. She did not look pleased when he entered the classroom.
“First day and already behind, Mr. Winslow?” she commented, making clear that she knew exactly who he was.
“Sorry, Professor,” Bryce apologized, and took a rear seat. Mike Sandoval, who was also in this class, smirked at Bryce as he passed, and Maddy Manning kind of greeted him by wiggling her fingers.
Professor Drake resumed her introduction to the course, handing out papers and discussing the material covered and the course requirements. From his history class covering this period last year, Bryce already had selected a possible term paper topic, at least in general. He wanted to look into John Dryden, poet, playwright, critic, commentator on the times.
When the class was over, he approached Dr. Drake, and again apologized for arriving late and disrupting class. He then mentioned his interest in Dryden. “And I know I need to narrow that topic,” he admitted.
She smiled. “At least you learned something last year.”
By the time Bryce made it back outside, Mike and Maddy had disappeared. The class dismissed at a little after 10:30, so he now had until two o’clock free. Damon had a full day on Mondays and Wednesdays, with US History survey from ten to eleven, his dreaded political theory class from eleven to twelve, Spanish from one to two, and statistics from two to three. At least, the Spanish class did not meet on Fridays. He and Bryce had agreed to meet in the cafeteria at noon, so Bryce went on to the library, seeking to utilize the time until then to get some work done on identifying a specific topic for his French and English classes. The time passed quickly, with all of it spent on this occasion on Jean Racine. Bryce was fascinated with his renunciation of the stage at the height of his creative powers, and decided to investigate that more fully, provided, of course, that Dr. Anjot approved the topic.
Today, being a Friday, both Bryce and Damon had two hours for lunch if they chose to spend them that way. Damon was waiting when Bryce got to the cafeteria on the ground floor of the University Center. Not surprisingly, his Political Science class had not lasted the full period on this, the first day of classes. Damon looked concerned. He explained that the instructor, Dr. Stevens, wanted each of the students to select a political thinker covered this semester and write a six page paper about his ideas. The semester began with Plato and went up through Jean-Jacques Rousseau in the eighteenth century.
“So, what’s the problem?” Bryce asked.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” Damon replied.
“Oh, no! Not another attack of self-doubt! Damon, you’re smart. You probably have more intelligence than half the kids in that class. You can do it,” his boyfriend reassured him.
“But writing six pages! Even Vanessa can spell better than I can. And, well, I don’t express myself all that great on paper,” Damon worried.
“I’ll help. You do the work, pick the thinker, bone up on his ideas, and come up with a rough draft. Then I’ll give you the benefit of my expertise as an editor,” Bryce promised.
“Okay. I’ll try.”
“You’ll do more than try. Boyfriend, you are going to get an A in this class,” Bryce prophesied.
“Not likely,” Damon pessimistically replied.
“Come on! Don’t give up on the first day. Just remember, you’re never going back to the projects,” Bryce said, pulling out the last resort in motivating his partner.
Damon took a deep breath. “I’ll do it … just maybe not an A.”
With that, Bryce had to be content for now. They left the Union and walked around campus, getting out the kinks, until time for their two o’clock classes. Damon went one way, and Bryce another.
Bryce made his way to Filson Hall for his class with Dr. Dickinson in medieval England. He was surprised to see Roland Lyle, Beau’s cousin, in the class.
“Hey! You’re Roland Lyle aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yeah,” the other student hesitantly answered, then he brightened. “Oh, I remember you. You’re a friend of my cousin, and in that fraternity. We met last spring.”
“Right. I’m Bryce Winslow. Hope you’re not having too much trouble getting settled.”
“Not too much. It’s a little intimidating. But I did well in my high school, and have some AP credits, so that’s why I’m signed up for this class. I met Dr. Dickinson on Wednesday, and he allowed me to take this class. I did follow your advice – I think it was you – and got Dr. Howard as my advisor. I’m in his American Colonial class as well. So far, I think I can hack it.”
“That’s great, Roland. I’m glad you’re making the transition to college without too much stress. I guess Beau’s been a help,” Bryce speculated.
Roland laughed. “Sort of. I never know though when he’s being helpful and when he’s pulling my leg. He nearly got me to wear a beanie with a propellor on top, and told me it was an initiation for all freshmen on the first day.”
Bryce laughed. “I’ve seen things like that in old yearbooks from, like, the fifties or so.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a good thing I decided to keep the damn thing in my back pack until I got to campus. When I didn’t see anyone else wearing them, I knew I’d been had. But I’ll pay Beau back, don’t worry. He’s been doing things like this to me since we were kids. I remember him getting me in trouble of some kind on my first day in Kindergarten. Just because he’s a year older, he thinks that makes him superior,” Roland said.
“Oh, I’d have to agree there, since I’m a year older than you, too,” Bryce kidded.
“Dork!” Roland responded, giving Bryce a disgusted look.
At that point, Dr. Dickinson entered the room in his own inimitable manner, and began his introductory spiel. He explained that they would begin with the Roman withdrawal from Britain at the beginning of the fifth century, and go on through the last of the Plantagenets and the victory of Henry Tudor in 1485, covering more than a millennium. Of necessity, some periods would get less coverage than others, but Dr. Dickinson proposed to focus on those events and periods which were critical in the development of the English nation. Once again, Bryce learned that a term paper would be required for this class. That meant a paper in every one of his classes, although some were to be longer than others, and he felt more confident about some than others.
Still, it should be an interesting semester.
[1] This book was actually published in 2013, but for purposes of this story it is published in 2010.