Another day was done. I was a simple graduate student, a first year seeking a Master's degree straight out of under-grad. I was teaching my first grouping of classes. These classes were a joke for all, the students, the teachers – everyone. No one wanted to take them, and certainly no one wanted to teach them, except that they paid the bills. Life as a graduate student is not easy. Money needs to come from somewhere, and that somewhere, for me, was three basic public speaking classes.
So today, like every other day, I managed to muddle through. I droned on, not really sure if I was an awesome, abysmal, or merely an adequate instructor. My students always looked at me with blank faces. It could have been that they were taking in everything, or perhaps it was all fluttering by. Maybe it was just that the classes were first thing in the morning.
I had just given out the grades for the persuasive speech assignment. It was worth 20% of the final grade, so in the scheme of things, it was a pretty big deal. Following class the usual mob clustered around with questions. It wasn't until the group had thinned, that I noticed her.
She stood waiting, blonde-bombshell to the core. Her head was held with a confidence that I might later think of as steely resolve. For now, though, it made me bite my lip and swallow. I was locked in. Her tongue was at play, tentatively licking moist, pink lips. Follow the thought downward and I came to the gentle slope of her neck that spilled into two swelling bounties encased in a powder blue sweater. Time stopped, as I took the moment to imagine several "what ifs?" But then the moment was gone.
I tried to avert my eyes and I felt desperately wrong. This was a student, an 18-year old college freshman, blissfully innocent of the thoughts at work in my head. I had certainly entertained them before. It is easy to do in the moments before sleep, while grappling with oneself for a few jolts of unbridled pleasure. It was also easy to do from afar, while listening to speeches or administering a quiz. She couldn't possibly feel my eyes then, probing delicately under clothes. Right? But this was different. She stood before me, brazen and unafraid, commanding me to look while not allowing me to gaze how or where I wanted. That was the difficulty. How do I interact with her, my student, when my unspoken desires had carried me so much further?
One by one, I answered the class's questions until I was alone with her. I turned to face her, and was hit by the gentle scent of raspberry. I could hear the florescent lights humming above, and feel their cold radiance reflecting off the white tile floor. The door closed and we were alone.
"Jessica, what can I do for you?"
"Professor." No matter how hard I tried, I could not break my students of the habit of calling me professor. I was a graduate student – nothing more. To them, though, it was all the same. We were all professors. "I wanted to talk to you about my grade on the last speech. I didn't do very well."
"I know. Did you understand my comments?"
"Yeah. I just didn't put the time into it I needed to. I was really busy last week, and I guess my speech took last priority. Can I do something to improve my grade?"
"Well, the final is still out there. I'd suggest putting some effort into it. We have the study session coming up next Monday. Are you planning to go?"
"I guess. It just feels like I am working against the gun here. I am already doomed to a low grade in the class due to what I got on my persuasive speech. It doesn't feel like my work will pay off. Is there anything else we could work out? Please?"
"If you need help studying for the final, you can always swing by during my office hours. I can quiz you on your definitions. I am not really sure what more I can do. I don't feel comfortable taking back the grade on the persuasive speech. It isn't fair to the other students."
I looked at her. She was silent. I began to pick up the papers, books, and other sundries I seemed to acquire over a class session. Jessica obviously didn't get the answer she was looking for. Oh well. There go my evaluations, I thought.
I was about to leave as she spoke again. "Professor." Her voice was softer, the tone completely different. It was subtle, smoky. "This is a speech class, right? Maybe I could come up to your office and take a special, private oral exam?"
What? Did she just ask what I think she did? My God. Cotton filled my mouth. I wasn't sure what to say. Somehow, however, I felt my head nodding, just ever so slightly.
A smile illuminated her face. I could hear her exhale a deep, nervous breath, followed by some words that would forever be emblazoned in my memory, "I am glad to hear you say that, Professor. I will stop by your office tomorrow for my tutorial. I'll see you then."
I could do nothing but stare out the window. I had long ago given up on productive tasks like grading papers and reading texts. Focusing was beyond impossible. Instead, I was locked into place – frozen in this off-white, sanitized, humorless office. Waiting. Hoping. Dreading. Thinking for the thousandth time that I was part of some departmental sting, or cruel freshman joke.
