A/N: I know folks are waiting for the final update to A New Exploration, and I am working on it, but I'm struggling with getting it to be exactly what I want because I've poured my heart and soul into it for over a year and 200k+ words now. I want it to be perfect. (And maybe I am not totally ready to let those two go). That said, I distracted myself by writing this in the interim. I've avoided writing and teacher/student fics since I'm a professor and it makes me squirm a bit (though I love reading them, go figure), but I had an idea I couldn't stop thinking about and didn't totally creep me out. I also haven't seen many (if any?) where Emma is in the teacher role, so I wanted to take a stab at it, along with a new writing format that I wanted to play with.

This is also the first story in what was going to be an anthology of unrelated SQ oneshots/short fics that are all inspired by song titles or lyrics. I was going to post them as standalone chapters in one long ongoing fic, but when I surveyed the SQ FB group, they said they preferred fics to be posted individually, so I'm going with that option. The title of this fic is from Vampire Weekend's "Campus" (modified just a bit).

This is already 100% written and ready to go. It was originally going to be a 15k word one shot. But, I wrote it in little mini-sections/vignettes and I realized that I ended up with 12 in total. It turns out every third section is a natural breaking point, so I'm dividing it into four chapters that I will post over the next few days. If you want to wait until it's completely done, feel free to follow and then wait until it gets marked complete with the fourth chapter at some point this week (most likely Wednesday).

I hope you enjoy :)

I.

Regina is staring down the lavender duvet cover as though it deeply offends her. I cannot believe this is my life now, she thinks as she looks around her childhood bedroom, her lip curling as she notices that her beloved framed Ziggy Stardust poster, signed by Bowie himself, no longer graces the far wall across from her bed. She makes a mental note to ask her mother what she did with it, because it's not only a treasured item from a simpler time in her life, but it's also immensely valuable now that the genius artist has passed away. She then drops the box in her hands on the single bed, not caring that she's probably getting dirt on the hideously pale fabric. It's the least of her concerns.

Yes, this is her childhood bedroom, but it feels foreign to her. It's never been "home." That poster and a few other prized possessions were the only sources of comfort during the limited time she had spent there as a teenager, and those are all gone, it seems. It feels like she's standing in the bedroom of a stranger.

And perhaps she is. After all, she hasn't spent more than a few dozen nights in this room after she went off to boarding school in Connecticut at the age of 14. She would occasionally come home for a long weekend, but holidays and school breaks were often spent at one of their other homes — either their cabin in Aspen during the winter months for skiing, or their summer house in Nantucket. One summer they even spent traveling across Europe, not spending more than four collective days of the summer break stateside.

But, that is all changing. At the age of 21, just six months shy of her twenty-second birthday, Regina is returning to her childhood bedroom, feeling like a prisoner and a failure. After being forced to leave Harvard at the end of her junior year, she is returning to her home in Storybrooke, Maine with her tail between her legs. She had been allowed to finish out her summer internship in Boston, as it wasn't tied to her coursework or student status at Harvard. But as soon as she turned over her intern ID badge to the front desk staff, her unhappy parents were standing outside of One Financial Center to escort her back to the apartment they had purchased for her after her freshman year. They had to ensure she would return to Storybrooke as planned.

She sighs as she sits down on the bed, trying not to admit that it is quite comfortable. Now, someone else is sleeping in her bedroom back in Boston (her parents decided to rent it out instead of selling it, as it's a trendy neighborhood and a good investment, so it's not a total loss for them. In fact, they're making money from her failure since they now have the rental income.) The furniture she had bought for her apartment is now sitting in a storage unit somewhere in Boston, mocking her with hopes of returning for it one day. But for now, she's surrounded by pastel textiles and art on the walls that she doesn't recognize, but knows is likely expensive given her mother's taste. But worst of all, after spending the majority of the past seven years living on her own, she's back under her parents' roof. And they've made it clear that they have high expectations and tight restrictions, as they won't tolerate her being a disappointment to their family name any longer.

"Regina! Mary-Margaret! It's time for dinner," Cora Blanchard's voice calls from downstairs, echoing throughout the two-story foyer.

"Coming, Mother," she calls back, forcing herself off the bed and walking down the hallway, passing her stepsister's bedroom. She hears the younger girl's voice say Sorry, David, I'll call you back later, as she walks by the open door.

Regina makes it down three steps before she hears her stepsister quickly catch up to her. "Regina, are you settling back in?"

"Sure," she replies, willing the chipper woman to stop talking.

"Oh, that's great! I'm so excited we'll be going to school together this fall. I mean, I'll be living in the res hall, of course, but it will be great to be on the same campus!" she continues, either failing to pick up on Regina's complete disinterest in the topic or choosing to ignore it.

"Uh huh," Regina grunts as they make their way into the dining room, sitting down on either side of the oversized table.

Regina goes to pick up the bowl of roasted potatoes but her mother fixes her with a strong glare, causing her to pull her hand back. "I know it's been awhile, dear, but we say grace before we eat in this house," Cora scolds.

"Of course. How could I forget," Regina deadpans, dropping her hands into her lap and waiting for someone to begin the charade. Their family is the farthest thing there is from religious, but she finds their need to conform to a wholesome family image entertaining, if nothing else.

"Would you like to do the honors?" Cora asks knowingly.

Regina offers a simple, "No, thank you," in response.

"Go ahead, Leopold," Cora says, looking across the table to her husband.

"O bless us, O Lord…" he begins, but Regina quickly tunes him out, managing to join in for the "Amen" at the end just in time to avoid another scolding from her mother.

"So, Mary-Margaret, are you excited to move into the residence hall tomorrow?" Cora asks her stepdaughter as she passes her the dish of green bean almondine.

"Oh, yes. I'm so excited. My roommate seems super nice, at least from what I could gather from her Facebook and our text conversations. I think Arendelle Hall will be amazing."

"Arendelle? You're living in the all girl's dorm?" Regina asks, the incredulous lilt to her voice not unnoticed by anyone at the table. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Mary-Margaret confirms. "It's not like I'm going to worry about dating. David will be at University of New England, so we'll be able to visit each other. And besides, I'm there to study, not socialize."

Regina shakes her head and chuckles under her breath.

"Regina, will you be helping us move Mary-Margaret into her new room tomorrow?" Leopold asks, changing the subject.

"I think I'll pass," she says. "I still need to get unpacked and settled since classes start next week. And I want to get registered for classes while there are still some decent options available."

"All the more reason for you to come to campus with us, dear," Cora points out.

"This isn't 1990, Mother. I can do all that online. I don't need to go meet with an advisor in-person. I already emailed him and know what I need to take. And no offense, but I really do not want to be seen with you anywhere in town, let alone on campus."

Being forced to leave Harvard and return to her small hometown in Maine to live with her parents is horrifying, but it isn't the most embarrassing part of Regina's situation. No, the reason that she finds her circumstance so utterly humiliating is because of who her parents are. As a senior, Regina is transferring to Storybrooke College, a small liberal arts college hidden along the coast of Maine. The Storybrooke College campus is a very close-knit community, and the college President, one Leopold Blanchard, is a beloved and prominent figurehead on campus. His wife, Cora Blanchard, is the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences, and a woman known for not only her academic rigor and tough exterior, but also her dry sense of humor. Students either love or hate her, depending on whether they can hold their own in her demanding psychology seminars.

Having spent the first 14 years of her life in Storybrooke, where her mother and stepfather gradually worked their way up the college administration hierarchy, Regina knows everything there is to know about the small school. That includes the fact that if anyone finds out who she is, any hope of having a somewhat salvageable senior year will be over. Her parents had always expected her to attend Storybrooke College for her education, but she had been determined to separate herself from her family's legacy — Leopold's great-great-grandfather had been one of the founders of the college in the mid-1800s, and every generation thereafter attended the school for their undergraduate studies. Leopold is the third Blanchard to serve as College President, and a few cousins have served in other roles throughout the institution — Leopold's brother had just been appointed to the Board of Trustees the previous year. Regina had made getting into Harvard her top priority in high school, as she knew that it would be the only way out of Storybrooke. Her family strives for perfection, and no one would deny her the opportunity to go to Harvard if she got in. So, she had made that her goal, and she had succeeded.

But, she had managed to fuck it up near the end of her college career, and now her parents will finally be getting their wish for her to attend their precious school. And Regina will be left with a consolation prize in the form of a diploma bought by her family to commemorate how she managed to mess up everything good in her life. Regina's only hope is that the decision she made when she was 18, a legal name change back to her father's surname of Mills to honor the man that raised her until his untimely death when she was three, will allow her to pass as a normal student on campus. She doesn't plan on speaking to anyone unless it's required for an assignment, and she will never tell anyone where she lives, lest they realize it's large mansion owned by the College and designated for the president and his family. But, just because she's not planning on hitting the crew or lacrosse team house parties every night doesn't mean that she wants to be a social pariah, labeled as the president's stepdaughter. Yes, her parents are well-liked by students, but she knows that if the truth gets out, she will be treated like more of an outcast than she already feels.

"Stop being so overdramatic, Regina," Cora finally says, bringing Regina back to the present moment, pulling her out of her inclination to wallow in self-pity. "It doesn't matter if people know you're our daughter. You're a senior, dear, you're not here to make friends. You're here to graduate and not be an embarrassment to our family any more. I don't care if being our child will destroy your social life. You've clearly proven you're not responsible enough to have one anyway, if your Harvard record is any indication."

Regina says nothing, just spears a red potato with her fork as she stares down at her plate.

"Roast beef, Regina?" Leopold asks as she passes her the plate.

"I've been a vegetarian for five years."

"Right," he says, setting the dish of meat back down on the table.

"I'll take some, Dad," Mary-Margaret says with a smile, causing Regina to roll her eyes.

"May I be excused now?" Regina asks, pushing her chair back from the table before she even gets a response.

"I suppose," Cora replies.

"Thank you," she stands and folds the cloth napkin that had been in her lap, placing it next her dish. "I'll be in my room."

As Regina makes her way up the stairs to lock herself in her bedroom prison, she can't help but think, it's going to be a long year.

II.

Regina had thought that having Mary-Margaret out of the house may make things a little less painful, as the woman's constant optimism constantly grated on every fiber of Regina's being. But, she had been wrong. Now with the youngest daughter out of the house, all of Cora and Leopold's attention is focused on Regina, and she can't take it: the micromanaging, the constant scrutiny, the 'where are you going, Regina?' and the 'who are you talking to, Regina?' questions…It's only been one week, and she's losing her mind.

As she wakes up that Tuesday morning for the first day of class, she's actually excited. She had been dreading being back in class, but now a day full of classes and hiding in the library between her morning and afternoon lectures seems like a lovely respite from the hell that has become her life.

"Are you ready for your first day?" Cora asks as Regina enters the kitchen and grabs a banana from the bowl on the center of the oversized island.

"Yes," is all that she replies. "I'm going to head over early so I can get coffee and a good parking spot. I will see you tonight."

Before her mother can protest or offer to drive her herself, Regina grabs the keys to her Mercedes Benz SL Roadster and heads to the garage, frowning as she realizes she'll need to put the top of the car up since it's raining.

III.

Regina finds the seminar room relatively easily in the social sciences building, as Storybrooke College is not particularly grand in scale — five main academic buildings, a few residence halls, a library with a game room and small coffee cart in the basement that is the college's attempt at a student union, and a handful of old mansions serving as administrative offices is all there is to it. The campus itself is less than a quarter square mile, which is all that's needed for the 1500 undergraduate and 200 graduate students who attend.

As she walks into the classroom, she sighs. She had expected this, but seeing it in person just confirms the annoying turn her life has taken. She's surrounded by freshmen. The 100-level social inequality seminar is typically a first-semester freshman course, as it meets the diversity credit requirement students are required to fulfill their first year at the college. As a transfer student, though, Regina still needs to complete it. And unfortunately, by the time Regina had been able to register for courses, all the upper-division courses that would meet the diversity requirement were at maximum capacity. So, she slides into a seat in the back corner of the room, hoping she can get by relatively unnoticed. Perhaps being in a class of excited freshmen will mean they'll do all the talking so she won't have to participate. She can only hope.

She doesn't bother to take out her earbuds, preferring to listen to Joni Mitchell rather than the chatter around her from overzealous underclassmen. They're all the same: the 'oh my God I can't believe it's the first day of college' and the 'I hope the professor isn't too strict' comments bore her. She barely sees the flash of blonde in her periphery as a woman enters from the back door of the seminar room, right next to where Regina is sitting. She glances up momentarily, mainly because of the breeze she had felt as the woman rushed by her. She looks to be around Regina's age, maybe a year or two older at most. Definitely not a freshman. Regina hopes that maybe this means she won't be the only upperclassman in the course, and maybe her own life will seem less pathetic. But her hopes are quickly deflated as the woman walks past the front row of seats and heads to the desk at the front of the room, depositing her olive green canvas messenger bag on top of the desk and taking out a laptop, setting it on the lectern at the front of the room.

Okay, so definitely not a student, then. Great, Regina thinks. She casts her eyes back down to her phone, replying to a text from her friend Kathryn, who is still back in Cambridge and preparing to start her senior year the next week. Her heart aches for the life and friends she left behind in Massachusetts.

She feels the student next to her start shuffling in his chair, which captures her attention. She looks up and sees several pairs of eyes on her, staring at her expectantly, including the blonde she now knows to be the professor. She pulls out her earbuds and sits up straight. "Sorry."

"As I was saying, let's get started," the blonde says as she comes around the front of the podium, opting to lean back against the front edge of the desk instead. "My name is Emma Swan, and I'll be teaching your seminar this semester. I'm a second-year graduate student in the MA in sociology program here. This is not my first time teaching a college course, so don't think that I'll go easy on you or that you can get away with anything because I'm new. This isn't my first rodeo."

Regina holds back an eye roll as a few freshmen fake a laugh, their nerves still getting the better of them.

"I expect you to come to class every day. Because of the seminar nature of this course, you'll miss a lot of rich discussion if you're absent. And, since there are only 15 of you, most importantly, I'll notice if you aren't here. You may be able to get away with blowing off your intro to psych lecture with 40 or 50 other students, but that won't fly here. I understand that things happen, so all I ask is you email me ahead of time if you know you'll be absent. I do take attendance and participation is a substantial portion of your grade, enough to make a difference between an A and B, so it would serve you well to come to class," she explains. "So, in the spirit of getting to know one another, let's go around and have everyone introduce themselves. Give us your name, intended major, where you're from, your res hall, why you chose this seminar, and something fun about you. Let's start up front here and work our way around."

Jesus Christ, Regina moans to herself as the first few eager freshman excitedly talk about how they're pre-med and are taking this class so they can better understand their patients of different backgrounds. She silently curses her mother and stepfather for not being able to get her out of this course requirement. They were able to circumnavigate several policies to get her admitted as a senior, but they couldn't waive this requirement. It's tedious. But, at least Mary-Margaret didn't sign up for this seminar…that's the only thing that would make this even worse.

Finally, she realizes it's her turn. To her mortification, she is indeed the only non-freshman in the class — there's not even a sophomore transfer student to help ease her embarrassment. "Regina Mills. Economics major. I'm from Maine," she says, not wanting to reveal that she's from this same small town, as it's too risky that someone will make the connection between her and her family. "I live off-campus. I'm taking this seminar because I'm a transfer student and my other coursework apparently didn't meet the diversity requirement, and this was the only one left that didn't conflict with my other classes I need to graduate this year."

"You're a senior?" the instructor asks with surprise.

"Yes," Regina confirms, ignoring the snickering from the freshmen in front of her.

"Oh," she says, and it's not at all judgmental like Regina would have expected. "And something fun about you?"

"I'll have to get back to you on that," Regina responds, narrowing her eyes at the blonde, silently telling her to drop it.

"Okay, then," Emma says, pushing herself off the desk and walking back toward the podium at the center of the room.

*.*.*

The first part of the 80-minute seminar is spent reviewing the syllabus and expectations for the course, which is nothing new to Regina. But much to her dismay, unlike most other college classes on the first day, Emma Swan does not let them leave as soon as she's done going over the syllabus. No, she's making them sit through a full class. "So, what does 'social inequality' mean to you?" she asks the class, and that's a loaded question if Regina has ever heard one.

Fortunately, a freshman in the front row raises her hand excitedly.

"Go ahead," Emma says, prompting the girl.

Regina tunes her out, as she finds the girls cheerful voice just as irritating as Mary-Margaret's.

It's a few minutes later when Regina hears those dreaded words spill from her instructor's mouth: "What about someone we haven't heard from yet…Regina?"

That pulls Regina's attention back to the front of the room. "What?"

"How do you feel about the points Nova made?"

Regina knows that Emma is aware that Regina hadn't been paying close enough attention. But, she's not about to give her the satisfaction of catching her off guard. "Honestly? I don't really have an opinion on it."

"Really?"

"What can I say? I'm pretty apathetic to this whole topic."

"Yes, that's fairly evident," Emma says, failing to hold back a hint of disdain and an eye roll.

"Excuse me?" Regina scoffs.

"Nova was discussing the instances of privilege she's witnessed on campus in the week since the freshmen moved in."

"Yeah, and I've been on campus for all of 45 minutes. My apologies that I don't have a strong opinion on privilege or whatever else you want to talk about. I haven't seen anything yet."

"You sure about that?" Emma challenges.

"Very. And frankly, this topic isn't really of interest to me. So perhaps the students who have been on campus long enough to have talked to more than five other people will have more to offer this discussion than I do," she responds. She hadn't planned to be quite so blunt, but it's her natural reaction when someone tries to confront her.

Emma turns back to Nova, who looks stunned by the discourse between her professor and fellow student. "Nova, would you like to continue what you were saying? Perhaps Miss Mills will be able to learn from your experiences," the blonde says, glancing to the back of the room and noticing the brunette's glare.

"Uh, sure…" the petite freshman responds in a small voice as she prepares to jump back into her example.

Regina leans back in her seat and glances up at the clock, silently counting down the remaining 15 minutes of class.

*.*.*

"Miss Mills, a word, please," Emma says as the students start shuffling out of the classroom.

The brunette rolls her eyes as she walks down the narrow aisle to the lectern at the front of the room. "Something I can help you with, Ms. Swan?" Regina asks, a perfect blend of sarcasm and saccharine.

"First of all, it's Professor Swan—"

"Technically, you're not a professor yet, so it's not. You're still a graduate student. You haven't earned that title yet," Regina snarks. It's terribly rude, but not incorrect.

Emma chooses to ignore her student's counterpoint. "Secondly, you would do well to remember the rules of the seminar as outlined in the syllabus," she says, using her index finger to thump the paper sitting on the top of Regina's notebook. "Respect for your fellow students and your faculty is expected at all times."

"I was just trying to keep my head down and get by, but you're the one who went all Socratic Method and forced me to talk. You don't get to be pissed at me just because you don't like what I have to say."

"I'm not 'pissed.' You are free to disagree with what another student says, or with what I say. But, you must do so with decorum. If you want to succeed in this course, then you will also need to be open-minded about the content we're discussing. I'm trying to get you to think a little deeper beyond your clearly limited worldview."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Regina asks, clearly offended.

"It means, Miss Mills, that you are not fooling anyone. You walked in here refusing to participate, wearing your Prada boots, Hermes scarf, and Burberry trench, and I'm fairly certain that's a Givenchy tote on your shoulder with the key fob for your Mercedes Benz hanging off the side. Your outfit costs more than what your classmates pay in rent for an entire semester, and your car costs more than their four years' of tuition. I'm guessing you probably haven't had a rough go of it in life, so this class might be particularly enlightening for you."

"You don't know anything about me, Professor. I would think that as a someone teaching a course about opening up one's perspectives, you would be a little less quick to judge."

Emma's taken aback by Regina's fortitude, but she quickly regroups. "I'm merely stating my observations."

"Well, maybe you should keep your own prejudices and assumptions to yourself. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Are you threatening me?"

Regina smiles sweetly and takes a step back, exaggerating the motion. "Of course not. I would never do that."

"Is there a problem here?" Cora Blanchard asks as she enters the classroom, as she's scheduled to teach her senior honors psychology seminar in the room in a few minutes.

Emma is quick to respond. "No, of course not, Dean Blanchard."

"No, Dean Blanchard," Regina parrots, looking at her mother with disdain before turning back to her instructor. "Now, if we're done here, I need to go to my next class. I would hate be disrespectful to the professor on the first day by arriving late."

Cora watches her daughter leave and turns back to Emma. "How is your first day going, Emma?"

"Aside from that," she says, gesturing to the door where Regina just exited, "it's been great."

"Is she causing problems for you?"

"No. Just another privileged student testing her boundaries."

Cora bites back a smirk. "Hmmm…Sounds about right."

"Nothing I can't handle."

"Let's hope you're right, dear."