Higher Learning

by Merry Amelie (MerryAmelie@aol.com)

Archive: MA only

Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series

Rating: PG

Summary: A tale of two classes

Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 66
A chronological list of the series with the URLs can be found under the header 'Academic Arcadia' at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/master-apprentice/files/
My MA story page: http://www.masterapprentice.org/cgi-bin/qs.cgi?keyword=Merry+Amelie

Feedback: Is treasured at MerryAmelie@aol.com Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.

To Alex, Ula, and Nerowill, my friends and betas extraordinaire

Quinn stood in front of the class, his keen blue eyes and long, lean form commanding attention effortlessly. His sharply creased slacks and tan corduroy jacket, brown suede patches rubbed flat, were such a familiar sight to the students that they seemed like a uniform. Yet he was more compelling than the material to many of them. Somehow his very distance and sternness were attractive.

Fortunately, Quinn was expert at deflecting student crushes; his no-nonsense attitude and polite disinterest worked just as well as Ian's rearrangement of student chairs.

Of course, his wedding band worked best of all.

The seating in Quinn's classroom proved to be just as idiosyncratic as anything Ian had ever come up with. The front row was empty as usual; the students preferred to watch their big professor from a slight distance. No one wanted a crick in the neck.

They were all senior English majors with two prerequisites under their belts, immersing themselves in Quinn's course on Literary Languages. Quinn had combed the works of Burgess, Tolkien, and Carroll to illustrate how these brilliant authors had invented languages all their own, complete with declensions and syntax.

The blackboard was full of examples of these exotic words and their definitions, some of which had entered the vernacular, like 'jabberwocky'. The day's homework assignment was written in its customary spot on the top left corner, a translation from Quenya due the next week. Quinn might not have gotten his dream of a Tolkien seminar yet, but this came tantalizingly close.

Thanks to the vagaries of scheduling, Quinn had been assigned an unusual classroom this semester, which had become a favorite. It was ordinarily devoted to art classes, what with its pull-down screen and video equipment. The recessed lights were dimmer than the harsh fluorescents common elsewhere, while the absence of windows made the class feel as if they were in their own little world. The only carpeted room in Wookly Center, it had more of a homey feel than the rest of the building.

The period was almost over when attention deepened into enchantment. Quinn had saved his favorite poem for last.

Spellbound, the students listened in rapt delight as he began, "A Elbereth Gilthoniel..." and half-chanted her song of Light. Somehow, the Elvish brought out his lilt, albeit in a less provocative way than his loveplay with Ian did. His soft voice held a surprising power. He abandoned the lectern and stalked the width of the classroom, reciting from memory, hands outstretched, unconsciously imploring the students to join in his celebration.

The final word, "aearon," (ocean) washed over the class, leaving silence in its wake.

The moment lasted until the next class started to trickle in. Then students came up to mill around his desk as usual, residual excitement still buzzing around them. Questions, comments, a request for extra office hours, Quinn handled it all effortlessly.

Ian stood in front of the class, radiating energy and enthusiasm. He was in the old auditorium at Taton, a hundred students around him in staggered waves, with a few stragglers ducking in periodically. Dressed in a shirt and tie over cream slacks, he had discarded his jacket on the table, since the room was a bit overheated.

When he'd taken it off, Ian had heard a couple of faint sighs from the front row, and had to suppress a sigh of his own. Every semester brought with it a few infatuations. Quinn and he had shared their methods of dampening them long ago, all of which still worked.

Of course, his wedding band worked best of all.

Ian's microphone was out of order, so he had to speak louder than he would ordinarily. It was much easier for him to raise his voice than it would have been for the soft-spoken Quinn.

The green chalkboard was freestanding, and wobbled with Ian's every line. He was conserving a nub of white chalk, lucky enough to have an eraser on the rack this time. He'd already sent a student on an expedition to get more chalk from unused classrooms nearby. He made sure to write large enough for those in the back to see.

Thanks to the efforts of the curriculum committee, Ian was trying to keep the students awake while he lectured about Bleak House. That multi-generational tale of woe, with its interminable court battles, was even more boring than a trade dispute.

To Ian's credit, he tried to engage the students with relevant details of Dickens' life, as well as witty commentary on the characters, especially the young protagonists hiding their marriage. He attempted to leaven it with his usual groaners, making the obvious pun on the surname Jarndyce -- jaundice -- then proceeding to explain how appropriate that name was. He went through the cast of characters, asking the students for the reason behind each name, and supplying the author's intent when necessary. Dickens was a master at using names to convey personality.

To the students' credit, they stayed awake after all. These little bits of levity sustained them through what could have been an impossibly dry lecture, and made Ian's points more memorable, which would help them on the upcoming midterm.

After class, Ian heard a few excuses for missed work, handed back some late essays that had been in his briefcase for a week, and made an appointment to review a previous chapter. He handled it all effortlessly.

They met in their office, Quinn automatically locking the door behind him. Although they felt freer to express their affection in public now, discretion was second nature to them, despite their status as an acknowledged couple. Their greeting kiss was warm, not hot, though they stayed in each other's arms for a long moment.

"Good class?" Ian asked.

"Mmm-hmm. The kids are really getting into the Elvish." Quinn leaned against Ian's file cabinet.

"I'm not surprised. You could probably make Huttese sound good." Ian sat back in his chair, rewarded for his praise by a pair of crinkled eyes beaming at him. "I have a feeling the strength of your student evaluations will help you get that Tolkien seminar after all."

Quinn said, "In that case, I'm sure I'll need a guest lecturer with a knowledge of all things Lorien."

"Glad to oblige."

"I still have a lot to learn, lad." Quinn's lips quirked as he thought of their private tutorials at home.

"And I'll be happy to teach you," Ian said, thinking of exactly the same thing.

Taking their lecture notes with them, the men got burgers at Rissian's, Quinn's treat, despite the fact that their debit card had long been spent. They shared a working lunch, though they no longer needed to do so.

After all, the best professors never stopped learning themselves.