I have been an "A" student since grade school and graduated number one in my high school class. My father is a doctor, and my mother is an attorney. Both of them have always set high standards for me, and it has always been important to me to meet their expectations.
Although you might suspect that I am a geek, I have always been popular among my classmates. I was vice president of the student body in high school and was first runner up for home coming queen. The quote by my picture in the yearbook says "beauty, brains and sweetness, all in one package."
Though I have had boyfriends since I was 13 or 14, I did not become sexually involved until the summer before my senior year in high school. My boyfriend at the time wore down my resistance after months of working at it, and he and I probably had sex once a week throughout our senior year.
When I enrolled as a freshman at Yale, I knew it would be more difficult than high school, but I expected to achieve the usual high grades with the usual ease. This was true for the most part, but I was struggling mightily in physics. No matter how hard I studied, I never seemed to do better than a "C" on the bi-weekly exams. After getting a "D" on the mid-term exam, I became very concerned about my final grade and decided to speak with my professor.
Dr. Jones (name changed to protect the innocent) is a very nice looking man, probably in his early 40's. Rumors abound about whether he is single or divorced, and he gets lots of comments among the girls – all favorable. He welcomed me into his small office with a pleasant smile, nodding toward a chair for me and sitting in the swivel chair beside his desk. He listened sympathetically to my tale of woe and my grave concern about earning nothing below a "B" in physics. I tried to make my case with an appropriate combination of academic seriousness and feminine wile.
"Lynn, you're a very bright girl, but I suspect that your aptitudes are not suited for physics. You should try to adapt to the idea of something less than a "B" for the final grade."
I gulped as he said this, because the idea of a "C" or worse is so unacceptable to me. "Oh, please, Dr. Jones, there must be some way for me to make the grade. I absolutely couldn't face my parents with anything less than a "B."
"Speaking very pragmatically, Lynn, I don't think there is a way."
"But Dr. Jones, I will work hard . . . I'll do anything for a 'B'. Absolutely anything!"
He squirmed in his seat a little, and I could tell that his mind was racing. "Can you combine your determination with absolute discretion, Lynn?" he asked with his eyebrows raised.
"Oh, Dr. Jones, I can be and would be the soul of discretion."
"Can you follow instructions to the letter?" he asked.
"Oh, I can, I can," I implored.
