A room of one's own

I teach my Woolf class from 11:30 to 12:45. The next class begins at 1:00. On the first day, around 12:30, a man stood outside my door, peering and bobbing. He came in at 12:46 and, while I was explaining how to sign up for oral reports, he bodied me to put his coat down.

Today, he gave me till 12:47. I was explaining something to a student who'd just added the class and he interrupted to speak to me. "DON'T interrupt me while I'm speaking to my student," I said, but he would not be deterred. I apologized to the student and turned to him. He pointed at the board, covered with notes from the 10AM class--there was no eraser.

"Yes, I'm sorry about that--"

He says, "But you have to---"

I say, "I was going to tell you. Those are not mine. Listen: you need to give me time to get out of this room."

He says, "What time does your class end?"

"12:45."

"But I need time to prepare," he whines.

I, channeling the Dowager Countess, said "SO DO I." And then I went to the Dean's office and filed a complaint.

My colleague now has an email from the associate dean requesting him to respect the shared time. 

Something about teaching a lesson on feminism only to get bullied really raised my hackles.