Class

I was in graduate school, but it was actually in a chapel. It was in a sort of pastoral, country setting. We had big, stained glass windows, and I was sitting in a pew on the back row. There were desks of a sort as well. I was preparing to teach, I had to teach in 1-2 hours. My dad came into the building, he had been out fishing in the area. He looked all scraggly and tanned and happy, like when I was a kid. He asked me if I’d like to go to breakfast with him and his friends. I was really happy to see him, and wanted to go hang out. I snuck out of class, so that I could have a little more time and still make it back in time for class. We went to a little diner in town, and we were having a great time. By this time, my sisters had joined us, and I kept reminding them to help me keep track of time. Before long, I looked up at the clock, and it was around 11:20. My class had started at 11. I was mad at my family for not helping me to remember, and when I said something, they said they did it purposefully, because they wanted me to keep enjoying myself. I ran out of the restaurant, back towards the school, but I knew it was in vain, because it was long past the mythical ten minute rule.