When Thalia comes in, she glances at me briefly, sitting in the front with the other two Honors Calculus instructors. She nods and I nod back, the exact same way I’ve nodded to my other students today, then go back to grading the finals from my Differential Equations class.
The final starts at eight in the morning, and they’ve got until eleven to finish it, but Thalia’s gone by ten, presumably to the library to finish her Research Methods final paper, which is due at 11:59:59pm tomorrow, the last day of finals.Chapter Thirty-SevenCalebI haven’t checked grades this often since I was a college senior myself and wondering what I got on my Introduction to Knot Theory final. I submitted them by noon Friday, and at 6:30, they still haven’t gone up.
I’d say it usually doesn’t take this long for grades to be posted after I submit them, but I have no idea. Even though I’ve taught for years as a grad student, I’ve never really cared when the students got their grades before. I never had much of a reason to.
Briefly, I turn in my office chair and look through my window, lean a little to the right until I can see Thalia, still at her carrel. I can’t quite see what she’s doing from here, but she looks studious.
I turn back to my desk, where a stack of end-of-semester paperwork is waiting for me. I grab my headphones, put on a podcast, and get to it.* * *An hour later, my phone dings and I grab it instantly, grateful for the distraction from Building Form 59B, which is for requesting special permission to use a seminar room in the Mathematics Department for next semester’s graduate student seminar, rather than a classroom with shaky desks and a window that doesn’t quite close all the way.
I don’t know why the permission is special. Aren’t seminar rooms for seminars?
Thalia: Only an A, not an A+?
Me: You didn’t earn an A+.
Me: You got two C’s on quizzes and I don’t even want to talk about the question on the final about asymptotic limits.
Thalia: Thank God, I don’t either.I turn around and look at her, still at her carrel, through my window and hers. She waves, and I wave back.
Thalia: Do you feel better now?
Me: About?
Thalia: Me.
Thalia: Now that I’m not your student any more.
Me: I’ve always felt good about you, that’s the problem.
Thalia: Don’t be willfully obtuse.
Me: Yeah, I do.I stand from my chair, crack my knuckles on the desk, and stretch. I take a deep breath.
We made it. We didn’t get caught.
Even though we’re still a semester away from being able to admit we’re dating, I feel better already because even though I know that I never treated her any differently than my other students when it came to class, it still felt awful to know I was doing something that wrong.
I spent most of yesterday and today figuring out what to do tomorrow, to celebrate the end of finals and the fact that she’s no longer my student. I’ve considered art shows in Richmond, hikes in the mountains, and several different alleged haunted houses and abandoned sanitariums. There’s something called Foamhenge. There’s an amusement park called DinosaurLand, which has lots of statues of dinosaurs.
I finally settled on taking her to Luray Caverns, because it’s cool, interesting, and no one there is going to have any idea who we are. We can hold hands and display affection publicly, and we’ll just be some couple who wanted to come look at stalagmites, not a dirty old professor taking advantage of an innocent student.
That’s what I hate the most about this situation, why I’m relieved that she’s not my student any more. I know that what we have is real and true and deep, but the simple facts of it feel so shameful: professor, student; older, younger.
I hate that I’m supposed to be ashamed of falling for the most fascinating person I’ve ever met. I hate that I can’t even brag to my brothers about how great she is.
I take my glasses off and rub my eyes with the heels of my hands, then will myself to get back to the last of the paperwork. I don’t usually stay late in my office, but I’m hoping to have this all done so I can go to Sprucevale on Monday and spend Christmas week with my family.
I got Rusty a skateboard. Daniel’s gonna pass out, but she’ll love it.
One last time, I glance through the window, but Thalia’s gone. All the more reason to finish this dumb request form and go home.
I’ve just signed it and am double-checking all the boxes one last time when there’s a knock on my slightly-open door.
“Yeah?” I call, hoping it’s not someone with more paperwork.
“Do you have a minute?” Thalia’s voice says, and my head jolts up. “I know your office hours are over.”