I was in in my literature class and we were studying a sort of strange religious text from the fifteenth century. During the lecture, I read a book for a different class. I wasn’t interested in what my teacher had to say. I was there to sign the roll.

For half a second, I listened. I was appalled by the discussion. It was disgusting, disrespectful, and wrong.

After class, I met up with a guy who was in my institute class (where we study our religion).

“Ken, right?” I asked

“Heather, right?

“Yeah. Do you like that class?”


“Yes. Honestly.”

“No, not really.”

We sort of talked about it for a while. We both didn’t agree with the content of what was said in the class. I told him I was reading my book, not paying attention.

He said something, “Well, we have to come and pay attention so we can pass the class.” We have to grin and bear it, basically.

Do we?

I don’t think so. There are things more important than passing a class. I wasn’t going to listen to that filth, so I didn’t pay attention. Maybe I should have left completely. I don’t know. But I didn’t agree with what was being said and no part of me wanted to agree with it.

Another thing about this experience: I had never talked to Ken before. We are both English majors, same religion, in two classes with each other. But I reached out today, a little bit. I spoke up. I talked to someone.

It made it so I didn’t have to focus on that class the rest of the day. I could focus on that good conversation I had.


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