"We're superstars you can also have a smoothie after class with".
It's an effortless combination that you could easily transform with some jewellery if you suddenly decide to go out after class with your new friends.
I was in love — with the postures, with the joy I felt day in and out, with the way 10 pounds melted off my body, with the coconut water we guzzled after class, with my limbs, stretching as they hadn't since childhood, and especially with the way my mind danced free, the weight of worry lifted.
As a college student I used to lounge there after class with a friend, gossiping, appraising students exiting Cobb Hall, exchanging whispered comments, but pretending to have deeper conversation.
I loved watching them walk down the street after class with their high pony tails, turned out legs and confident straight backs.
Douglas and Ressler really partnered up on "road school," training local cops around the country, and some of those local cops really came up to them after class with strange cases of their own, asking for advice.
Driving home after class, with Andrew at the wheel, I thought about how, on these freeways, we are always microseconds from death, and how we've traditionally tried to motivate young drivers to slow down by showing them "Red Asphalt III" and other road-carnage movies.
Hang out after class with everyone else.
Approach teaching assistants before or after class with questions, or visit them during office hours.
After classes, he met with dissidents and consorted with the fartsovshchiki, the young hustlers of bluejeans and hard currency.
Last year, I spent - literally - hours discussing events and life prospects with him after classes, both individually and with other students.
