A Workable Solution

The hallway outside the dean’s office contained two mismatched chairs, each vying for the position of most uncomfortable, dull green walls, a cluttered bulletin board and one bored professor. Annie stretched her feet out and then stared at the ceiling. Sudoku, Facebook, seeing if her last check had cleared, email, and the latest Trump news taunted her but her iPhone was almost out of juice. She looked back at her novel and began her desultory reading once again .

The sound of footsteps brightened the hallway. Annie glanced up and then closed her jaw and looked down again, the words on the book no longer appeared to be English or else she had forgotten how to read. The adjunct approaching her was stunning - tanned skin, long black velvet hair, dark eyes, and the lithe physique and movements of a panther.

He sat down in the chair next to her. It wobbled. Annie smiled. “I’m Annie, Dr. Annie McIntosh. What are you in for?” she asked.

“In for?” The man looked confused for a moment. “Ah, I have been summoned here, I was told it was to discuss my pedagogy.” He opened his briefcase and took out a stack of papers to grade.

He did not, to Annie’s dismay, ask her why she was here. Not reading her novel, she cast surreptitious glances at the adjunct as he worked. Great swaths of precise red writing covered the first paper with amazing speed. She ventured to comment, “If your grading style were a movie, it would be Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

*****

The scratching of the pen stopped. “If my grading style were a movie...? The title does not sound inviting.”

“No, it’s not,” she rushed on, “It’s brutal. How do your students react to the bloodbath you’re making of their work?”

“Bloodbath? I do not see the reason for all the violent imagery.” Tovaras frowned and wondered why this woman insisted on commenting at all. He looked at her. She was in her early fifties and had the same sort of humorous glint in her eyes he had learned to associate with humans having fun at his expense. “They do not seem to appreciate my efforts.”

“Of course not,” Annie said in a smug voice, “My grading style would be Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Everyone loves chocolate.”

Tovaras raised his eyebrows, amazed this woman was teaching. Annie added, “The Johnny Depp version.” After a beat she added, “Goes without saying.”

“Yet, you said it.”

Annie sighed. “So I did.”

Tovaras went back to his papers, ruffled and self-conscious about every red letter placed on the page. He was aware that the woman still studied him.

“Do you actually read those things?” Annie seemed shocked.

“What?” This comment surprised Tovaras more than the previous one. He had, after all, heard multiple similar grumbles from students about his editorial butchery, so her comments in that area were not unfamiliar. “You do not read the papers you grade?”

Annie snorted, “Shoot no! They pretend to write ‘em and I pretend to read ‘em. It’s not ideal, but, it’s a workable solution.”

“A sense of personal integrity would dictate that we read and grade each paper thoroughly.”

“You mean harshly?” Annie asked, cocking her head.

She appeared to be laying a trap and it made Tovaras uncomfortable. Deciding the correct answer posed no threat, he responded, “If the paper calls for it.”

“Is the comfort you find in your own self-righteousness more important than your students?”

Tovaras raised his eyebrows. He wondered if he had been called in to instruct her on proper pedagogy and if that was the source of her defensiveness. It struck him as logical. He also did not relish the idea of tackling that task. Annie did not strike him teachable.

*****

The door opened and the two academics were summoned into the dean’s cluttered office.

*****

“You are to instruct me?” Tovaras said as they left the office. “I do not understand.”

“It’s a strange world,” Annie replied. “Let’s go get some tea. Feed some squirrels. Have some fun.” Tovaras found it strange but the idea appealed to him.