Professor Taylor

I knew Professor Taylor’s class would be different when I stepped into his classroom on the first day.  He wasn’t wearing a suit and tie like all the other professors and instead had on a tye dye shirt and jeans.  I actually wasn’t sure what to really think of him, but knew he had a vibe I was interested in.  I desperately wanted to stand out and be different from the person my parents wanted me to be.  They wanted me to be as straight laced as them, but I wanted to spend more time camping, dreaming and painting.  I was hopeful Professor Taylor would be the one who could lead me into my space. 

Most of my other professors seemed a little more straight than I ever wanted to be, but were on the same par as my parents.  I had grown up with the rules of having to have my bed neatly made every morning, every drawer shut completely, all the time.  I was tired of rules and I was tired of having to wear skirts and tucking in my shirts.  Professor Taylor was everything I ever imagined about college and I wondered what my parents would think if they ever found out I was taking a class from him.  I knew I couldn’t tell either of them or they would promptly unenroll me from college whether I wanted them too or not.  I knew I had to get to know him no matter what the cost. 


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