The third week of school has come around much faster than I anticipated. The summer weather is starting to cool down, but it is still warm enough to take a trip to the water. Maybe I will before it gets too cold.

My advanced contemporary dance classes on Tuesday are the most rigorous. I actually get into the routines with the students. I am trying to get them to focus on the final touches of this latest routine before their first evaluation exam.

As I lean against the mirrors, I clap my hands loudly to count the beat. "5,6,7,8!" The students move through the routine. They are sweating heavily and so am I. We have been running this routine into the ground for the last hour and a half.

I cut the music off with my remote, "Wrong!" I yell.

"What count does the chorus start on?" I ask, and the students all huff out of breath, and I ask again. "I said, what count does the chorus start on?"

"One!" They shout in unison.

"Exactly! So why are you falling behind?" I say sternly.

I move to the front of the formation and start the routine without music. "Bam bam bam. Tak!" I hit my left heel down on the first count. "Then you step here," I move my right foot around to the front. "Bam bam bam, and ONE!" I finish on the one beat where the chorus would start. The students nod quickly after seeing me do it.

"Again, from the top! 5,6,7,8!" I start the music. The students break into the routine, and it finally looks cohesive. They expertly maneuver through the steps, delivering a seamless routine.

"Much better!" I yell. I lean back against the mirror watching them finish their set.

Everyone collapses on the floor to catch their breath. After everyone gets a drink from their water bottle, I show my appreciation for their hard work. I remind them of the evaluations next week, and to use studio time for practicing. Then I dismiss them.

One of the boys from the class approaches me. "Professor, there is a contemporary dance competition coming up in a few months with a 1,000-dollar prize payout to the winners." He says. "The only requirement is to be a part of a university club. A few of the students want to know if you could set up a dance club?" He asks nervously.

Hmm, first a drama club and now a dance club. I smile and tell the student that I already have a meeting with the Dean tomorrow morning to discuss starting clubs in the PA department. The student looks excited and thanks me before he grabs his things and leaves.

I pack up the room and leave it to the cleaning crew to sanitize. I pass Yunsul on the way out. She is about to start her ballet class in the same room. "Do you normally dance with the students too?" She asks, clearly surprised by my sweat.

"It helps them to see my body movements and form to understand what they are doing wrong," I shrug. She raises an eyebrow in shock. "Why, what do you do?" I ask curiously.

"I give them the technical names of the moves and have them build the choreography only from my description," she says simply like it was the most obvious way to teach dance.

If I was a student who had to learn under those methods, I know I would struggle. I simply hum in response before waving goodbye to her. Once I'm in my office, I drop my papers on the desk and look down at the river through the window.

Junhee knocks on my door which pulls me out of my trance. "Lunch?" He asks and I nod.  I grab my phone and wallet before joining him.

As we walk through campus, Junhee looks me over. "You don't feel embarrassed by the sweat?" He asks.

I look down at myself. It was only sweaty around the collar of my shirt and my hair was slightly disheveled by the sweat. But it's drying.

"I'm an active teacher I suppose," I laugh shyly.

We get to the main building and walk down to the cafeteria. As we collect our food and move through the bustling students, we find a spot in the back that is away from the crowd. We eat in silence for a moment before Junhee gets a call on his phone. He forgot about a student meeting that was scheduled, so he had to leave lunch a little early. No problem for me, I don't mind eating alone.

I poke my food and look around the cafeteria. My eyes stop on a fitted plain white shirt and dark blue slacks. Black rimmed glasses gleam slightly against the sun that is shining into the room. Yoongi is sitting a few tables over. He was eating his food and leaning over a very large book.

I pick up my tray and make my way over to his table. "Hello," I smile brightly, "Want a lunch partner?" I set my tray down and sit on the other side of him.

Yoongi sits up and smiles. "I haven't seen you in a while Professor Jung," he closes the large book.

"What were you reading?" I ask.

"Oh, I was just rereading the histories of ancient pottery restoration and preservation methods," he looks up at me. I raise my eyebrows in curiosity.

"Did you have a dance class?" He asks smirking at my sweaty hair. "You must be an active teacher," he says while nodding his head and grabbing some food.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" I can feel myself pouting. 

He looks up at me for a moment, "Well as long as I have been here, the PA department hasn't been well received. Not a lot of majors want to sign up, and professors don't want to teach in that department," he says truthfully. "But it's nice to see that someone might actually change that," he says slowly. I look up at him.

He is grinning and tapping his fingers on the cover of his book slowly. I look back down at my food quickly and change the subject.

"Sunbae, how old are you?" I wonder. 

Yoongi sighs, "I'll be 30 soon,"

I can feel myself light up at the thought of someone finally being close in age to me, "I'm 28, we are close in age! How long have you worked here?"

"This is my 3rd year," he smiles. He turns his head to the side slightly, "Well since we are so close in age, you don't have to call me Sunbae,"

I pause, I don't know if I can disregard his seniority like that, "It's no problem, really!" I say quickly. Yoongi waves it off like it's nothing. "Okay, well what should I call you?" I ask. 

"Yoongi is fine,"

"Yoongi, Hyung?" I ask wearily, Hyung may be taking it too far.

Yoongi stops tapping the cover of his book for a brief moment. Our eyes meet for just a second. Before he continues to tap lightly on the book.

"Sure, that's fine," he mumbles. I smile and continue to eat.

"Can I have your number now that we are friends" I chuckle, and Yoongi holds out his hand. I give him my phone and Yoongi calls his own phone number, so it is in my history.

"There. Now don't only call me when you are drunk and need a ride home," He teases.

"Right about that night. I really wasn't as drunk as I looked. My face just got really red," I say embarrassed. Yoongi nods but pouts a little like he doesn't really believe me. I roll my eyes and finish my lunch.

"I have another class to get to, but I'll see you later Hyung," I say after looking down at my watch. Yoongi leans forward and rests his chin on his hand and waves goodbye.

After the day finally comes to an end, I made my way home after stopping by the store for groceries. Back at home, I work on chopping vegetables and preparing dinner.

I set my meal down on the table and turn the tv on to get comfortable. I hear my phone buzz. It's a text message from Yoongi.

Faculty is buzzing. Word is you have a meeting with the Dean tomorrow?

I raise my eyebrows, surprised, and quickly type back.

How does everyone know about that?

Because you are brave enough to think the Dean is going to consider whatever you have to say, especially as a newbie haha.

Great, now I'm nervous. I didn't think this was going to be such a controversial topic...

Well, what do I do? My students want me to create a drama club and a dance club?

Hmmm. Professor Jung. You may have to do a little homework...

I sigh deeply.

The next morning, I am outside of the Deans office with my laptop waiting nervously. Yoongi explained that unless I had a clear plan of what I would be doing in the clubs and where the funds would directly be allocated too, then I would surely be denied.

I spent all night making a presentation and spreadsheet for each club. I am beyond tired. I finally get called into his office. From the look on his face, he is already reluctant to hear what I have to say.

My presentation explains how a drama club and a dance club would bring popularity to the PA department. Which would garner more funds to the department and the school. I would train my dance club for competitions to win money and write plays for the drama club for students to purchase tickets. In the long run, this would be a smart investment on his part.

I end my presentation, and the Dean is sitting in silence. He sighs. "$5,000 for both clubs. That's it," he says sternly. If I don't start to see a return on this investment by the end of the semester, you can kiss the funding goodbye," he warns.

I breathe a sigh of relief. But now the real problem begins.