Steve Rogers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
on_ur_left) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fateandfortune2016-08-13 08:22 am
on_ur_left) wrote in fateandfortune2016-08-13 08:22 am
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Class officially started as the minute hand struck the hour, and Steve checked to make sure that all the students were present. It wasn't a large class, about 20 students total - and today, one student less. Rising from his seat, Steve went over to the door and pushed it shut, making sure that it latched, before turning back and heading to the front of the class.
This was the first indication to his students that something was wrong; Steve made it a point to only close the door once their model had arrived, and then only to give her privacy from gawkers. Standing in front of his desk, Steve leaned back on his hands, trying to look opening, while still serious. "We need to have a discussion.
"I try to give you all free reign," he began. "You're adults, and you're artists, and believe me, I understand that that breeds a certain personality type. A lot of artists don't do well with following rules, or authority - I don't do well with rules or authority, generally. And that's fine. Creativity is working outside the box. So, I don't tell you what you should or shouldn't draw, how you should do it, unless I know it's going to hamper you down the line. You know that - you know me.
"I'm not your mother. I don't want to have to remind you of how to behave - I shouldn't have to, because you're all adults. But, it's been brought to my attention that maybe I should. You'll notice that Neil Carson isn't here today," he pointed out, an apparent non-sequitur. "He's not going to be here, today, or any day after this. I flunked him." Steve stopped there, watching everyone's reactions. Neil had been outgoing and boisterous, a little loud, getting on some of the other students' nerves sometimes, but nothing that Steve hadn't recognized as introverts and extroverts clashing. This class genuinely got along well with each other, and it was something he was immensely pleased about. To hear that one of the better of their peers had been flunked shocked them, although he noted a few of them also looked a little relieved; he couldn't help but notice they were all women, too. Had he been missing something all this time?
"Normally, I wouldn't be telling you this. If someone asked, I would say he wouldn't be returning, but I wouldn't volunteer this information to any of you, and not the whole class. But you need to know this, and understand. There's only a few ways you can get flunked out of this class, and pretty much none of them have to do with art. They have to do with common decency, and respect.
"Marie LeBeau has kindly agreed to model for this class. She's not a professional model, but she is professional, and I think she's been doing an astounding job. It came to my attention that Neil made -- rude, prurient remarks to Ms. LeBeau. I spoke with him, and I told him that sort of attitude would not be tolerated in my classroom.
"Let me make myself perfectly clear." Steve leaned forward, crossing his arms over his stomach; a move he knew looked intimidating, but at this point, he was too angry about the entire thing to care. "Just because someone takes their clothes off, does not mean they are consenting to anything besides allowing you to look, and in this case draw, them. You don't make a pass at them, you don't make personal remarks about their body - nothing. If you want to have sex with your model, then I suggest you only draw your significant other. Art can be sensual, and sexual - but not like that, and not in my classroom.
"As I said, Ms. LeBeau agreed to take this position, with the understanding that it was for art. She's never been an artist's model before, let alone posed nude. Think about standing in front of a room full of strangers, naked - for a lot of people that's a literal nightmare. Now imagine they're documenting every single inch of your skin, every tiny imperfection you see in the mirror. The least I can do is make this a safe space for her, and make her as comfortable as possible. Having my students make lewd suggestions that are more expected from construction workers does not make her feel safe, nor comfortable.
"So, I may not be your mother, but I felt the need to remind you, just in case you weren't aware: everyone you interact with is a human being, and deserves the same respect you give your parents, or whatever figure you look up to."
He paused for a moment, and finally rolled his eyes and muttered, "Just don't be assholes to anybody. Nobody likes that kind of artist, okay?"
This was the first indication to his students that something was wrong; Steve made it a point to only close the door once their model had arrived, and then only to give her privacy from gawkers. Standing in front of his desk, Steve leaned back on his hands, trying to look opening, while still serious. "We need to have a discussion.
"I try to give you all free reign," he began. "You're adults, and you're artists, and believe me, I understand that that breeds a certain personality type. A lot of artists don't do well with following rules, or authority - I don't do well with rules or authority, generally. And that's fine. Creativity is working outside the box. So, I don't tell you what you should or shouldn't draw, how you should do it, unless I know it's going to hamper you down the line. You know that - you know me.
"I'm not your mother. I don't want to have to remind you of how to behave - I shouldn't have to, because you're all adults. But, it's been brought to my attention that maybe I should. You'll notice that Neil Carson isn't here today," he pointed out, an apparent non-sequitur. "He's not going to be here, today, or any day after this. I flunked him." Steve stopped there, watching everyone's reactions. Neil had been outgoing and boisterous, a little loud, getting on some of the other students' nerves sometimes, but nothing that Steve hadn't recognized as introverts and extroverts clashing. This class genuinely got along well with each other, and it was something he was immensely pleased about. To hear that one of the better of their peers had been flunked shocked them, although he noted a few of them also looked a little relieved; he couldn't help but notice they were all women, too. Had he been missing something all this time?
"Normally, I wouldn't be telling you this. If someone asked, I would say he wouldn't be returning, but I wouldn't volunteer this information to any of you, and not the whole class. But you need to know this, and understand. There's only a few ways you can get flunked out of this class, and pretty much none of them have to do with art. They have to do with common decency, and respect.
"Marie LeBeau has kindly agreed to model for this class. She's not a professional model, but she is professional, and I think she's been doing an astounding job. It came to my attention that Neil made -- rude, prurient remarks to Ms. LeBeau. I spoke with him, and I told him that sort of attitude would not be tolerated in my classroom.
"Let me make myself perfectly clear." Steve leaned forward, crossing his arms over his stomach; a move he knew looked intimidating, but at this point, he was too angry about the entire thing to care. "Just because someone takes their clothes off, does not mean they are consenting to anything besides allowing you to look, and in this case draw, them. You don't make a pass at them, you don't make personal remarks about their body - nothing. If you want to have sex with your model, then I suggest you only draw your significant other. Art can be sensual, and sexual - but not like that, and not in my classroom.
"As I said, Ms. LeBeau agreed to take this position, with the understanding that it was for art. She's never been an artist's model before, let alone posed nude. Think about standing in front of a room full of strangers, naked - for a lot of people that's a literal nightmare. Now imagine they're documenting every single inch of your skin, every tiny imperfection you see in the mirror. The least I can do is make this a safe space for her, and make her as comfortable as possible. Having my students make lewd suggestions that are more expected from construction workers does not make her feel safe, nor comfortable.
"So, I may not be your mother, but I felt the need to remind you, just in case you weren't aware: everyone you interact with is a human being, and deserves the same respect you give your parents, or whatever figure you look up to."
He paused for a moment, and finally rolled his eyes and muttered, "Just don't be assholes to anybody. Nobody likes that kind of artist, okay?"
no subject
The things that student had said. The way he'd looked at her, for a few classes now, and the way he'd made her feel. The looks she'd been able to brush aside, but when he'd openly commented on things during and after class as she'd been getting into her robe to get dressed... She'd felt frightened and dirty, and those had never before been things she'd associated with art, or with anything to do even remotely with Steve.
It was only because Steve had assured her that the student wouldn't be back that she'd even considered returning to the class. She didn't know what had transpired between them, but she trusted the man who had become her friend, and so she hurried through the halls, her steps mostly silent because of the rugs that had been put down to keep people from sliding about as they tracked in water; it had been a veritable monsoon since early morning, and she shook her umbrella as she walked to loosen some of the raindrops that clung to it.
Rogue didn't expect to find the door closed - she was a few minutes early, yes, but the door was usually open and inviting when she arrived. Switching her umbrella to the other hand, she reached out to the handle -- and froze when she caught the sound of Steve's voice saying that student's name. Her breath caught in her throat as she listened to the speech that seemed to stretch on for hours. Tears filled her eyes and she had to tilt her head back to keep them from falling.
"Damnit, Steve," she whispered to no one, blinking back those treacherous tears and hoping that no one noticed the redness of her eyes or the watery look in them. She waited until the speech had ended and silence stretched behind the door before giving a quick knock and peeking inside. "Hey, teach, you ready for me?" she asked in her normal, bright southern drawl, giving him a warm smile that might have held a little more affection than she'd ever previously allowed.
no subject
He was just about to go to the door and open it again, so Rogue wouldn't wonder what was going on, when there was a knock, and the woman herself entered the room. Her cheerful words almost fooled Steve - but he'd gotten into the habit (for better or worse, considering what he'd just lectured his students on) of paying close attention to Rogue; the way she moved and spoke... the way she smiled, especially when it was at him. And this morning was different.
"Absolutely, we were just getting set up. Right guys?" There were murmurs of agreement - a little more subdued than usual, but nothing that should stand out. Even as Steve spoke however, he was giving Rogue a surreptitious second look, cataloguing the differences today. Her eyes were bright, and combined with the flush on her cheeks - that could have been from the cold wind and rain - and the pink tinge around her eyes...
She'd been crying. Or at least, trying not to cry. He couldn't ask her if everything was alright, not in front of the class; even if he kept his voice down, one of them was bound to overhear, and he didn't want that for her. And he didn't want her to feel self-conscious by pointing it out now, anyway.
He hoped it didn't have anything to do with Neil. After overhearing what the young man had been insinuating (and outright suggesting with no subtlety, as well), Steve had promptly sent him off ("to be dealt with later"), and then assured Rogue, numerous times, that he would take care of it, she didn't need to worry about something like that ever happening again in his classroom.
It wasn't just that she was the only person he'd been able to find who would agree to model for them. He genuinely liked Rogue, and was coming to care for her as a good friend, despite not having known each other for more than a couple months.
...And, yeah, okay, he might be starting to develop feelings for her that weren't strictly platonic. He was ignoring those feelings, because at least for the moment, he wasn't going to do anything about them; he was the authority figure, her 'boss' for lack of a better term, and he wasn't going to jeopardize either their working or friendly relationship by suggesting something more. Not right now, anyway.
For right now, he could be the friendly young professor. Which meant he grabbed the cup of coffee he'd started buying on his way to class every morning, even though he didn't really enjoy the stuff; Rogue did, and it was the least he could do to repay her for helping him out in the first place.
"For you," he told her with a smile, that was a little softer than his usual grin when interacting with her, handing the cup over. Carla, the woman who had a coffee 'cart' that traveled around campus, was getting cute: this morning she'd written "Professor Steve's Model" on the cup, instead of either his name, or even Rogue's, which she had learned a few weeks ago.