My Deer Girl

Chapter 5: Who’s That Girl?

                                                                                             Aria

I did not expect Dominick already had a girl. But of course, he was good looking, nice and all. Why didn’t I even think of that? Who wouldn’t like… or even love him? It was no wonder even for a really graceful, beautiful red head that was a head taller than me to fall for him. He got it all, and they looked so good together!

Sh*t. Why do I feel like someone snatched away my favorite toy? He’s not even mine to begin with!

Sure, I did not wait for the girl to act b*tchy at me for talking with her boyfriend, who was actually just being a Good Samaritan for helping me with my drink. It was the reason why I had to make myself scarce. Besides, I did have a class to attend to.

I checked the map again to familiarize myself with the new campus. It was truly annoying that I had to do this everytime, thanks to the demons for this. I could just curse them.

I blew my face and marched the pathway to the building at the back of the library where my SWRK 319 (Critical Thought and Ethics in Social Work) class was. It was scheduled every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at nine in the morning. It was followed by another major subject, which was SWRK 320 (Practice with Individuals and Families).

I never thought I’d spend almost two hours at the tour and insert speaking with a probably campus’ heartthrob. I did notice many girls looked his way while we talked near the vending machine. Apparently, he was popular, considering his looks and everything.

I sighed heavily and entered the class hall when I found it in a square building painted with dull yellow. The windows were glass and left open for fresh air. I noticed that the professor was already at her table, and I chose a seat in the front row on the left. It was always my favorite spot to not be directly in front of the lecturer. I’d hate to crane my neck just to listen and focus. I didn’t want to sit in the back or at the center either. As much as possible, I didn’t like to get surrounded by other students, who might turn out to be demons. I had a few experiences of it already. So… left in this case was a good spot. It was also near the exit door and the window, thus easy to get out just in case.

Prof. Pam Oswick was in her late forties with a few gray hair strands in her bun. She was a bit chubby and wore slacks and short-sleeved blouse. She leaned her hip on the wooden desk that contained a book, some folders and a tablet. She took the gadget and started the roll call and asked us questions individually to tell her about ourselves. There were just twelve of us, so I guess it was easy for her to remember us all in a short period of time.

“So,” she said as she placed the tablet on the table, “tell me what your expectations are in this class, Miss Brown.” She crossed her arms and turned her head to look at me.

 I didn’t expect her to ask me that, glancing at my classmates that were majorly women. There were only four guys with us.

I did manage to respond to Prof. Oswick. “I would like to learn the importance of critical thinking, its interrelation and purpose with the social worker’s job.”

She nodded. “As an overview, the class will tackle the utilization of theory and reflexivity to test or challenge the different ways in learning and practicing within social work. We will critically run through, engage and evaluate the theoretical basis of social work theories—which are conflict, grounded, developmental, humanistic, family life cycle, psychodynamic, rational choice, psychosocial development, social constructionist, transpersonal and social learning—as well as knowledge obtained over this course. You will apply this information to ethical dilemmas that may possibly arise in your future practice.”

Phew! Now I wondered why I really took this course. There was a lot to take in.

“So, let me ask Miss Albescu, what’s the meaning of critical thinking?”

The gypsy-looking girl, about a few years older than me, blinked a few times before answering, “Critical thinking is the capacity of a person to examine, coordinate, assess and apply new knowledge.”

“Okay. So, how does this apply to social work practice?” Prof. Oswick questioned. “Miss Brown?”

Oh, Holy Mother of God! Why me again? Am I her favorite already?

I cleared my throat and straightened my back before answering her, “In the social work practice, it involves looking at a client or situation from a neutral and objective point of view, without making assumptions or jumping to conclusions. Social workers must spend their days perceiving, experiencing and discerning all that’s happening around them. Their role is to get as much data as possible. These data are taken from observations, research, interviews, supervision, case notes and/or some other means. Social workers should be conscious of their feelings and beliefs. Ergo, prejudices or stereotypical biases need to be recognized, admitted and prevented to influence thinking, especially when making a plan of action to aid the clients to the highest level possible.”

Through the window, I caught in the corner of my eye the red head that kissed Dominick earlier. She passed by the building together with two other girls, who wore skimpy clothes. Well, there was no specific dress code at the university, so everyone was free to wear what they want. But seriously, it was like they were going to a dance club or something in those.

Where is Dominick? Shouldn’t he be with her at least and send her to her class?

I barely heard Prof. Oswick continuing, discussing about the importance of critical thinking in direct practice.

I was almost drained even though it was my first class yet. But I was able to catch up after that red head’s distraction. Why was I even out of focus because of her? Who was she?

I was fast to get up and almost dashed to my next class to not be late when the bell rang. My next class was going to end at around noon. But I had to stop at the ladies’ room now. I’d been holding up my bladder for about half an hour or so. At least my next class was in the same building, and the washroom was just in sight down the hallway to the right.

I hastened to the first vacant cubicle and emptied my bladder. There were actually five cubicles in here. I already flushed the toilet before I heard some girls come in, noticing that I was alone if they hadn’t come.

“Hey, Charlotte. Do you know who that girl was that Dom talked with earlier?” A girl with a husky and sort of nitpicky sounding voice.

I froze before I could open the lock of the cubicle.

Dom? Does she mean Dominick?

“Hey, that’s Nick or Dominick for you. I am the only one who gets to call him Dom, okay?”

Oh, sh*t! That was her voice! It was the red head, who kissed Dominick in front of me.

I gulped and stayed where I was. But then again, I’d be late if I stayed longer, so I decided to get out of the cubicle. The two girls were at the light pink-colored sink counter and faced the rectangular mirror that spanned from one end of the wall to the other. There were five sinks, and two in the middle were occupied by them, so I chose the one to the farthest right, which was closer to me.

Our eyes met in the mirror while I washed my hands. They continued to retouch their makeup and lipstick.

“Isn’t she the one who talked with Dominick?” The one with husky voice was slender, tall and brunette, whispering to Charlotte.

As if I didn’t hear her! Gosh. I almost rolled my eyes while washing my hands.

“Hey, new face. How do you know Dominick?” Charlotte asked.

I dried my hands first, and she just waited for me to answer with dark blue eyes seemingly piercing me. Or was she challenging me?