Bun(sen) Burner

Art Professors are such quirky creatures. As are most art students. You can always find such an assortment of interesting people in an art class. For example, the tall slick country-city cow boy who seems like he might possibly be a closet gay just waiting to emerge. Or the middle aged mother who wears important looking clothing over knee high black leather boots. Or of course the dark haired soft spoken girl with black and purple striped tights. I could probably spend a couple paragraphs listing the type of people one finds in an art class. Including the prof. He's a funny little man, really. It's tough to tell how old he is, but he really doesn't seem to be old enough to be called a "Professor". He's very soft spoken, with an amusing sense of humor, and reminds me a good deal of the gay man I work with. He talks slowly and quietly, which in a way bothers me, because it makes all the other people in the class feel the need to talk quietly... or at least that's how it seems. I don't mind that he's a quiet guy; he takes the time to enunciate and clarify himself, but when three or four students all talk quietly at the same time, in attempt to answer a question, it gets a little frustrating. At any rate, I'm looking forward to the rest of this particular painting class, as I am with all of my classes, with the exception of Art History. The dates and names might be the death of me.