I knocked on the door and opened. The professor was talking, so I looked around and found an empty seat to which I quietly headed. Many of the students turned their heads and looked at the new comer. The professor saw me, kept talking for 10 minutes and then looked at me and said in a very calm voice "Good evening, can I help you?" I said "I am a new student in the Islamic history and art class". With the same very calm tone he said "This is not the right class, yours will start in 15 minutes in this same room". I thought why the hell he did not say that immediately upon seeing me enter the room. Did he expect me to wait by the door and ask first for a permission to enter? I did not know, but I felt a bit like an idiot when I saw smiles on some faces. I apologized and left.
I entered the room again at the right time and found it was the same professor. Some of the aces I have seen before were still there. It turned out the course was divided into 2 historical stages, and students could choose to join at the beginning of any of these stages.
We were 3 new students. There were 9 old students who started 3 months ago. We were a good mixture of everything. Men and women, young and old, those who joined the class in order to find a job and those – like me – who were just interested in history and art.
By the end of the 6 months none of the other two new students completed the course, whereas all the old students were there to the end. The fifty-something professor with his moustacheand goatee was extensively knowledgeable although in such small private schools we could never guarantee how qualified the professors would be.
The professor had a close relationship with the old students, who were on their part, keen to eepen their relationship with him by giving our study visits (to the archaeological sites) a friendly touch by searching beforehand for good restaurants where we could have lunches or celebrating birthdays.
The "leaders" of the class were mainly three persons from the old group.
A housewife in her mid thirties (although she claimed she was 29 years old) with fake blondish hair and dark roots. She acted like the boss of the group. She was married to a guy with a much quieter character whom she once brought along in one of the social gatherings.
A man in his early 30s who was close to the blondish boss and rather acted like her assistant or secretary. She would give him as example her suggestions of the places of the meeting points to inform us. I felt sometimes they had more than just friendship. I once sat next to him in the bus in one of our day-long study visits, and surprisingly he did not seem as shallow as one might think. He made sensitive and intelligent remarks that I did not expect (I guess I was misguided by his attitudes towards the boss) He had a refugee status because of the political situation in his original country. We did not have a chance to talk together again.
The third "leader" was another lady in her mid or late thirties. Dark, petite and looked classier than the boss. I liked her in somehow although we almost never exchanged a word during the six months. Out of curiosity I wanted to know if she was married or not. I could not know, but she mentioned once something about her less-than-10-years-old son.
The three got along well and were acting like a team responsible for the logistics of our visits and social events.
Although I did not want to participate in the social gatherings of the class but most of the time I could not skip them because they were usually held in free times between the study visits.
The rest of the students were more or less as quiet as I was, except another housewife whose attitudes unintentionally showed her dislike to the boss. There was also a good looking guy in his late 30s who wore always black, talked much and displayed an air of self-importance. In one or two occasions the blondish boss tried to flirt with him but I doubt he even cared to notice.
The only two persons I could develop some sort of friendship with were a down-to-earth guy of my age who, according to his story, studied business administration in London, and a girl in her early 20s who was friendly and open to talk with anyone as long as this one was male, young and single. She had an uncommon name that made me remember her many years later when I met someone, in completely different circumstances, and our talk led us to find out that she was a friend of him.
At that time I was fresh out of the university, driving my first car and Aretha Franklin was also riding on her freeway of love. After the end of the 6-months-course, it all quickly faded down to be a part of the memory as I never came across anyone of the group again.
