The young man sucked in his cheeks and rolled his eyes. “I get A’s on my papers.”

She breathed through her nose, knowing full well her nostrils were probably flaring. “You earn A’s because you’re smart. But smart isn’t all that’s required in my classroom. The rest is showing up and talking to your classmates. If you think skating by on smart alone is cute, keep it up and see how far it gets you in the real world.” The words felt frighteningly familiar as she said them, but she was already riled up.

Braden finally looked her in the eye only to say, “Man... I thought you were one of the cool ones. Like, there aren’t that many of us and I thought you’d be down.”

Cool ones? What on earth does that mean? “Excuse me?”

“Why are you stressing?” he asked. “I read your stuff; I write your papers. Why do I need to come here and talk about this depressing shit?”

If she had ever taken that tone with her parents, or even ended that statement without a “sir” or “ma’am,” she would have expected a swift punishment of forty-four sit-ups in two minutes. “No, Braden, there aren’t many of us at this university. And because of that I can’t slack on my job because you want to slack on yours. My job is to push you to push yourself. Because when you eventually leave these walls, you will still have to prove yourself to them.” She pointed a finger to the classroom wall to emphasize her point. “I’m going to tell you what my mother told me when I was your age. ‘You’ve got two strikes against you: You’re black and you’re a woman. That means you have to work twice as hard to get the same amount of recognition as your white colleagues.’ The reality is harsh and the strikes exist. If me telling you this doesn’t make me down enough, then be disappointed. Just make sure you show up disappointed and on time.”

Braden stared at her.

Victoria’s heart was pounding by the end of her sermon. She’d evoked her mother’s words and immediately felt conflicted. Yes, they were true and had been meant to prepare her for adulthood, but they were often said in place of encouraging words. Work harder because your best is just the start. She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Look, I’m not scolding you for the fun of it. You’re an excellent writer. You make insightful observations, and you express yourself like a graduate student. But you must come to class and you must come correct. I’ve given you warnings in the past; this is the last one. Show up.”

“Fine.”

She’d take a fine. “Thank you.”

“Do I have to talk about everything though? Some of this stuff seriously bums me out.”

Victoria tried not to sound exasperated. “Not everything about African American Lit is going to be sunshine and rainbows, but it’s an important part of this nation’s history. Why did you sign up for the class?”