~ Kate Armstrong: Over-The-Hill Coed ~

by

Sherry Derr-Wille

Denny Bostian prepared for the morning’s class. The anticipation of a new semester never ceased to amaze him. He’d been teaching Romantic Literature on the college level for the past twenty years, and it was always the same on the first day of school. Butterflies took up residence in his stomach at the prospect of meeting the new crop of students that would descend upon his classroom.

Over those years, he’d heard every joke in the world. How had the top jock in high school and college decided to teach a sissy subject like Romantic Literature? He had no one but his late wife, Lori, to blame for that. She’d been the one to turn him onto romance novels when they’d first met. It had led to the classes he now enjoyed teaching as well as the whispered comments concerning his sexuality.

Since he’d kept his personal life extremely private, none of his students knew of the great love he and Lori had shared. They also didn’t know how their inability to have children coupled with Lori’s tragic death from liver failure devastated him.

Theirs had been a love no romance writer could begin to put on paper. Lori often said if more men read and understood romance novels, there would be fewer divorces in the world.

Denny straightened the papers on his desk, and checked the board to make certain he’d written his name, as well as the names of the books he wanted his students to read this semester, in bold enough letters. In a few minutes, the new session would begin. At the same time, he would be forced to endure the jokes and whispered accusations he’d put up with for the past twenty years. Up until now, he had been happy teaching at the main campus of the University in Madison and being one of many. Today would begin an entirely new chapter in his life. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever considered teaching at one of the outlying campuses.

Lori’s death had changed everything. The house they’d shared soon became little more than an empty shell without her. As soon as it was sold, he’d asked to be transferred away from Madison and the memories that resided on every street corner. He’d certainly never expected to end up in his hometown, teaching the children of people whom he went to high school.

To calm his nerves, he went down to the lounge to get a cup of coffee. By the time he reentered the lecture hall, the gallery was already full. For as long as he’d taught this particular class, it never ceased to amaze him how many students thought it was a suckey course designed to give them an easy credit.

“Good morning,” he greeted the class from the podium that stood beside his desk. “It pleases me to see so many young, smiling students.”

He searched the sea of faces before him in the hopes of perhaps recognizing someone who just happened to look like one of his old classmates. Among the students who could have easily been one of his children, he saw a beautiful woman who had to be close to his own age. She sat inconspicuously at the back of the room. For some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, her hair didn’t match her coloring. Before continuing, he made a mental note to check out the student list to learn her name.

“I’m certain most of you took this course in the hopes of gaining an easy credit. Trust me, it is not easy. We will study everything from the traditional English Romances to the modern day categories. By the end of the semester, you will be expected to write the first three chapters and synopsis of your own romance novel.”

A collective male groan told Denny he’d struck the nerve he’d intended to strike. By mid semester, anyone who considered this to be a suck course would either have dropped out, or be completely enthralled.

Again, he glanced at the woman at the back of the lecture hall. Unlike the young students who were staring at him with their mouths open, she was furiously taking notes. Considering her age, he couldn’t help but wonder if the notes were in shorthand. As he recalled, most of the girls he went to school with took the secretarial courses. Back then, society deemed the girls would either be nurses, waitresses, teachers, beauticians, or secretaries, with their main focus on landing a husband.

In the front row a young man raised his hand. Denny nodded his recognition of the student.

“Are you saying we’re going to read those smut books our moms read?”

The comment brought laughter to everyone in the room. Everyone, that was, except Denny and the woman who had so captivated him.

“You will be reading good quality romance novels. If you’re here to read smut, you’re in the wrong class. Romance isn’t just sex. By the time you’ve read a couple of these books, I’m certain you’ll see the difference.”