Good Lord! They are appraising me! —Lady Elizabeth Murray, Belle When The Mates walk in, I avert my gaze and tuck my hair behind my ears. To my left, a friend prints a title, pauses, erases, rewrites. To my right, another checks the volume on their tablet, mutes, un-mutes, then mutes again. The group behind us, mere seconds ago debating the effect of water on excretion, watch their inhibition walk through the door and take its rightful place in the front row. Seven minutes have lapsed since most students convened for today’s class, but a workshop in the absence of