I had recently graduated with a degree in Anthropology from a state university. It was a PhD. I'd majored in geography as an undergraduate. Then I moved on to another college for my MA in anthropology. And finally I finished my PhD at another state university.
Actually, departments liked it when you'd studied at more than one institution. For some reason, it made them think that you had more on the ball. All bullshit, of course. A degree was a degree.
So with my fresh doctorate I went searching for a job at any institution that wanted me. I, of course, had no business looking for a job in the private sector. What the fuck would they need an Anthropologist for?
So, after browsing through the Chronicle of Higher Education for several weeks I finally found a temporary position at an American Indian university. They were always looking for Native Americans to fill teaching positions, but this time they had been unable to find any available Anthropologists to teach their Introduction to Anthropology.
The other professors disdained teaching a beginners course, for whatever reason. I was happy to take the job. I was nearing the end of my savings.
The semester started with a bang. None of the students would even meet my eye in class. I think there might have been a little reverse discrimination going on. After all, we Anglos had screwed them out of their land, placed them in virtual prisons of schools, and still didn't recognize their humanity. But I was an Anthropologist, and gradually a few came to realize that I was on their side, no matter what.
Anyway, that was what they were learning in class, that all cultures had some value, and some had some bad aspects. So they gradually warmed to me.
I of course held office hours, as any college teacher does. Very few took advantage of that time. Only two boys, and one girl, would regularly come in to discuss their test results, or the scores on their assignments.
The two boys were not overly bright, but were obviously trying, which counted for a lot in any academic setting. They were going to finally settle for Cs in the class, but with anyone else they would have flunked. I counted them as a qualified success.
The other regular was quite different. For one thing, she would have done fine without ever even visiting me. She was A material all the way. But she wasn't satisfied just sliding through with an A in the class, she really wanted to understand and incorporate the material into her academic life.
We had our own little offices, partitioned off from the other teachers and professors, but they weren't truly private. Anyway, I held office hours twice a week for two hours, and the boys took up half of my time. She always waited patiently in the hall to speak with me. It somehow made me quite proud and a little proprietary, I must admit.
One day, half way through the semester, the boys had come and gone, and she came in slowly with her ever present shyness. I told her to sit down and tell me what was on her mind. This time it was different. She wouldn't even meet my eye. I had to find out what the problem was. I had started to care a lot for this little American Indian girl, and I didn't like what I was seeing.
She finally, after many minutes of very strong shyness, admitted that she had started to have some odd feelings for me. I had found out in earlier conversations that she hadn't the faintest idea what sex was about. These things can't help but slip out when you are completely naive.
She used the name Maria here in school.
"Maria, I could teach you many things, but it's against the rules while we're teacher and student."
That's when she began to cry, and, I don't let girls cry, especially the ones who have been sweet to me. So I took her two hands.
