First day of classes. Oh joy. Leaving Lawndale was hard enough. She hadn’t brought all that much, hadn’t meant to, that is, but just the thought of her little girl going off to college was more than enough to open the floodgates on Helen’s credit card, if not her tear ducts. While annoying at times, Helen did have useful parenting responses. Well, useful for some, in any case. It all fit in the SUV, and Jake would be well out of earshot by the time the bills arrived, so no real harm done.

Heading onto the quad, she sighed to herself. The first week was a bit hectic, moving into her new room (a single, thank God), arranging a schedule, and trying to track down professors to get permission to add their class to her official roster, despite the university’s best efforts. But now, her room livable and a schedule approved, signed, and duly filed in triplicate with the registrar, only one task remained: locating the classes based on the acronyms in the course and room roster. Oh, and surviving the first day of classes would be nice as well.

Walking across the quad, the eclectic mix of buildings on the campus seemed to crowd her narrow path. The University policy that buildings must be representative of the time they were constructed in sounded great on paper, but led to a very interesting feel for the campus. Where else could you find a combination of colonial architecture, castle-like monoliths of brick and stone, and the infamous Randall Hall, designed in the industrial nightmare style so popular in the 70’s? Somehow, this would be her home for the next four years. It would take some getting used to.

Shaking her head, she remembered the task at hand. Class. Dropping her bag to the soft grass, she removed a small slip of paper, studying it carefully before proceeding.

"White Hall? That would be … there."

Across the quad, an old colonial building stands behind a quartet of tall oak trees. Behind the leafy canopy of the center two trees, ‘hite Ha’ is visible in large metal letters. Zipping her bag and hefting it over her shoulder again, she heads off towards the building, entering through the first entrance.

Inside the building, a single long corridor runs the length of the building, ending in a stairwell. Along either side of the corridor, classrooms branch off at irregular intervals, with room numbers mounted on large plastic signs just outside the door.

"Ok, Introduction to Micro-Economics 101, White Hall 143. Hmm. 130, 132, 134 … "

After a moment of searching, it becomes clear that there are no odd numbered rooms anywhere in sight. Puzzled, she notices a sole open door at the far end of the corridor. Curiously, she moves to the end of the corridor, peering cautiously into the office. Satisfied, she walks through the door to reveal a middle-aged woman sitting behind a large metal desk, piles of papers neatly stacked on every flat surface. Looking up from her work, the woman studies the new arrival with penetrating but friendly eyes.

"Let me guess, a freshman?"

"Um, yeah."

"I’m Rosalyn, the department secretary. Can I help you?"

"Um, I’m looking for room 143? I have a class there…"

Smiling, the woman gestures at the far wall of the office. "Go back down the hall, walk outside, and go in the other door. Room 143 is the second door on the left."

"Outside?"

"Yep. This building is divided into two distinct parts, parts which don’t connect to each other internally."

"Why would they do that?"

The woman sports a small smile before responding. "Our best guess is that the architect was drunk. Or just didn’t like the university."

"And no one thought to check the plans before they built it? Whose crazy idea was THAT?"

"Hey now, don’t be criticizing the University."

"Um, why not?"

Chuckling lightly to herself, the woman turns back to her computer, typing as she speaks. "Oh, no reason. They just like it if we say stuff like that."

"Oh. Well … I really have to be going. I wouldn’t want to miss my first class."

"Watch what you say. You might change your mind."

Shrugging, she heads out of the office, turning down the corridor to towards the door.

Inside a lecture hall, a tall, thirty-something professor is perched by the door, sitting back against the wall in front of a sparse classroom. Glancing in disappointment at the scant handful of students in a classroom designed for over one hundred fifty students, the professor turns quickly as the door swings open.

"Hey, hang on a second Miss …"

Shifting slightly to observe the professor, she replies to his implied question. "Morgendorffer."

"Miss Morgendorffer. Are you in this class, or just looking?"

"In the class. You signed my add/drop slip last week."

"Oh. Well then, you’ll need a course packet. Here."

Taking the packet, she takes a seat in the middle of the classroom, leafing slowly through the stapled sheets. As she scans the syllabus, the seats around her slowly fill with groggy students, an aroma of coffee hanging heavily in the air. Just before reaching the end of the packet, the professor addresses the class in a loud, confident voice.

"Ok class, I suppose I should welcome you to our fair university and all that, but lets get right down to business. My name is Professor Warre, and I am taking over this class from Professor Johnson. I know that many of you see this class as nothing more than an easy grade, but I can assure you that this year will be different than previous years."

The professor pauses briefly as a groan circulates through the class.

"Great. I wonder if there’s any room in poly-sci?" mused a student from the back of the room, eliciting a disappointed glare from the professor. Raising his voice slightly in a commanding tone, the professor continues, quickly regaining control of the lecture hall.

"I can assure you that by the end of this class, you will know the basics of economics. Or you will fail. Three tests, twenty percent each, one final, thirty percent, and weekly homework to make up the remaining ten percent. Now that we’ve gotten through the basics, we may as well get started with the class."

"Well, he sure doesn’t waste any time, does he?"

"What?"

"Usually they give a day for people to settle in. So much for gentle introductions."

"Ms. Morgendorffer!"

Turning in shock back to the front of the room, Professor Warre is staring directly at her, as is much of the class. Behind her, a lanky girl, dressed in a pair of cut-off jeans and a dark black t-shirt with ‘Carpe Noctem’ written on the front, sits back sheepishly, looking thankful but guilty for bringing the professor’s wrath on her classmate.

"In my classroom young lady, we do not talk during lecture. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Um, no?"

"Good. But while I have your attention, perhaps you could explain to us the concept of supply and demand?"

Leaning forward, the black-shirted girl surreptitiously whispers, "I’m sorry," softly into her ear.

"Well Miss Morgendorffer, we’re waiting for you to enlighten us."

Facing the professor, she stares at him with a determined stare, locking eyes for a brief but significant moment before responding. "Supply and demand is a simple concept that economists like to pretend is complex and insightful. Basically, it means that if the demand for a commodity, say oranges, exceeds the available supply, then prices will rise until demand for oranges equals the available supply."

"That’s a reasonably good, if simplistic view of the matter…"

"Of course, this ignores the effects of limited competition, product substitution, and inelastic demand on an economy, which would merely interfere with the understanding of the fundamentals."

The professor cocks his head, recognizing that there is more to this girl than meets the eye. "Um, yes, that’s, uh, very good Ms. Morgendorffer," he replies, studying her carefully before scanning the class once again. "Moving along…"

As the lecture winds to a close, the class as a whole have their heads down, furiously taking notes in their notebooks until the professor concludes.

"And that’s the basic foundation upon which modern economics is based. Now, before the next class, I expect you to read chapters 1-3 in your textbook."

From the front of the classroom, a male student looks up in surprise. "Professor Warre? You want us to read three chapters by Wednesday?"

"The first chapter is only ten pages. It’s a very simple overview of the entire course."

"You want us to read two chapters by Wednesday?"

"Yes. I do."

"Oh."

As the class begins to stand and pack their bags, the black-shirted girl leans forward. "Hi, I’m Amber. Not bad back there. How’d you know all that stuff?"

"Oh, that? Something I picked up in High School."

"Are you always so confrontational with teach … professors?"

Shaking her head, she turns to Amber with a smirk. "Well, not really. But if you establish yourself as a ‘smart’ one early on, you’ll earn a lot more leeway later."

"And the smart ones make the teacher look like a fool?"

"No, no. You’re not showing them up, you’re challenging them. Show’s you’re awake…"

"Semantics. Say, I didn’t catch your name…"

"Morgendorffer." Looking up in surprise, she shakes her head briefly in amusement. "Sorry about that, I’ve been in a few too many university offices this past week. My name is Quinn. Quinn Morgendorffer."