Wednesday morning arrived far more quickly than Vivienne would have liked.
If Tuesday had taught her anything...
It was that St. Albion professors possessed an almost supernatural ability to assign homework.
Vivienne looked down at the neatly organized checklist she had made the previous evening.
✓ Mathematics exercises.
✓ History reading.
✓ Biology notes.
✓ Governance response outline.
✓ Philosophy reflection paper.
She blinked.
Then blinked again.
"...I actually finished everything."
For a brief moment, she simply stared at the page in disbelief.
"...Who are you?"
"...And what have you done with me?"
Across the room, Claire looked up from fastening the last button of her uniform jacket.
"Talking to yourself again?"
Vivienne smiled sheepishly.
"I was just impressed."
"With yourself?"
"A little."
Claire laughed.
"I think you’ve earned it."
After two days at St. Albion...
Finishing every assignment before breakfast felt like an accomplishment.
Perhaps she was finally adjusting.
Or perhaps...
She had simply become terrified of procrastinating after yesterday morning’s unnecessary panic.
The thought alone made her laugh.
Never again.
After breakfast, the four girls met outside the dormitory before making their now familiar walk toward the Humanities Building.
The morning air was pleasantly cool.
Students filled the pathways once more.
Unlike the first day, however, very few looked lost.
People already walked with purpose.
Some discussed yesterday’s Governance lecture.
Others compared Mathematics homework while making their way across campus.
Amelia sighed dramatically.
"I’ve never heard so many people argue about governments before."
Eleanor smiled.
"I thought you said you weren’t listening."
"I wasn’t."
"They were debating all through breakfast."
Claire laughed.
"I suppose that’s what happens when everyone receives the same writing assignment."
Vivienne couldn’t help smiling.
There was something strangely comforting about it.
Reading & Composition was held in one of the smaller seminar rooms rather than a lecture theatre.
Only around thirty students were present.
The desks had been arranged in a broad semicircle instead of straight rows, creating an atmosphere that felt noticeably more intimate than any classroom they had entered so far.
A woman in her early forties entered carrying a single novel beneath one arm.
She placed it gently on the desk before looking around the room with kind, observant eyes.
"Good morning."
"My name is Professor Helena Marlowe."
"I’ll be teaching Reading & Composition throughout your Foundation Year."
She smiled warmly.
"Unlike many of your other subjects..."
"There are very few right or wrong answers in this classroom."
Several students immediately looked more relaxed.
Professor Marlowe continued.
"My responsibility is not to tell you what a piece of writing means."
"It’s to teach you how to support your own interpretation."
She picked up the novel resting on her desk.
"This semester, we’ll read essays, speeches, historical documents, poetry, and works of fiction."
"Some you’ll enjoy."
"Some you probably won’t."
Soft laughter spread throughout the room.
"That, too, is part of becoming a thoughtful reader."
She turned toward the blackboard and wrote a single question.
What makes a story memorable?
After placing the chalk down, she faced the class once more.
"I’ll begin with a confession."
"I’ve forgotten the plots of many books I’ve read."
Several students exchanged puzzled glances.
Professor Marlowe smiled.
"But I’ve never forgotten how the best ones made me feel."
The room became noticeably quieter.
"That’s where we’ll begin today."
She looked around the semicircle.
"What makes a story stay with us?"
A student near the window raised his hand.
"The plot, Professor."
"A good beginning."
Another answered.
"The characters."
Professor Marlowe nodded.
"And what makes memorable characters?"
The discussion continued naturally.
Each answer led to another question.
Some believed unforgettable stories relied on dramatic events.
Others argued it was the emotions that lingered long after the final page.
No one was told they were wrong.
Instead...
Every opinion became the starting point for another conversation.
Vivienne found herself listening more than writing.
Unlike Governance, where students debated ideas...
Or Mathematics, where every solution followed a logical sequence...
This classroom encouraged different perspectives.
There wasn’t a single correct answer.
There were only interpretations supported by thoughtful reasoning.
She liked that.
Very much.
Perhaps...
That was what reading had always been about.
Not simply understanding what an author wrote.
But discovering why those words mattered.
Before anyone realized it, the bell rang.
Professor Marlowe gently closed the novel in her hands.
"For next week..."
She held it up slightly.
"I’d like everyone to read Chapters One through Three."
As you read..."
"Choose one passage that speaks to you."
"No essay."
"No analysis."
"Simply mark it."
"Next week, we’ll discuss why you chose it."
A collective sigh of relief swept across the classroom.
Vivienne almost laughed.
Finally.
Homework that didn’t involve five hundred words.
As the students packed away their books, Professor Marlowe offered one final piece of advice.
"The greatest writers are almost always the greatest readers."
"If you wish to write well..."
"Read widely."
"I’ll see all of you next week."
The students gradually filtered into the corridor.
Amelia stretched as soon as they stepped outside.
"I think..."
"That was my favorite class so far."
Claire nodded.
"Mine too."
"It didn’t even feel like a lecture."
Eleanor smiled faintly.
"It felt more like a conversation."
Vivienne looked back once toward the seminar room before following her friends down the hallway.
She couldn’t quite explain why.
But for the first time since arriving at St. Albion...
University no longer felt like something she simply had to survive.
It was slowly becoming a place where she wanted to stay.
Where she wanted to learn.
And perhaps...
Where she could begin writing a story different from the one she’d already read.