Last Tuesday our Latin class was unexpectedly cancelled, causing much speculation. Today Felicity and I arrived slightly later than usual, and thus didn’t get our usual, coveted seats right next to the white board, and were forced sit across the room. I sat behind Jesse and Sam, finally sitting with the other English majors. Class begins when Maxwell-Stuart arrives, so the students have the tendency to get there early, as he has more than once begun class five minutes early. Amidst the banter as we waited for him to arrive, Sam exclaimed, “Holy smokes!” Jesse and I followed his gaze and muffled our own shocked exclamations.
It was Dr Maxwell-Stuart, and he wasn’t in a kilt.
Class was cancelled last week, he apologized, because he had to go to the hospital. He continued: “My treatment has a curious side effect, which leaves me unable to wear my kilt.” Of course, the dear man declined to go further.
However, his attire today only increased the awesomeness that is the PMS*: high top converse, jeans, and a business shirt with sleeves rolled up just far enough to reveal the tattoos on both his fore-arms. Did I mention that he wears a gold earring? Seriously, I think I have the coolest Latin professor ever.
* This nickname was bestowed upon him by a previous student, not myself. It is also much easier than saying out his multisyllabic name every time.