Danny Frenelli, Ph.D., and associate professor of applied mathematics for another six weeks, was already packing up his office. Although his appointment did not officially end until July, there wasn’t any real point in occupying his office any longer. The semester was over, exams had been graded, and final grades had been filed with the registrar. Students were packing up and moving out, and Danny felt he should join them. It was time for him to move on as well. He would come back for graduation, and to help one of the post-docs he’d been working with on a journal article, but there was no need to keep all his books and papers for that. He didn’t want to be on campus during the solitude of the beginning of June, and he was sure that the arrival of students for the care-free summer session would only make him wish he was still a professor.
Danny felt a bit disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to keep his office. It was a large and well-located office, with a view of the quad. It was much nicer than his seniority merited, and he knew that he had been fortunate to get it. The previous occupant, Professor Rosenfeld, had left abruptly, and under circumstances that had never been publicly explained, at the end of a semester nearly eighteen months ago. None of the other professors had wanted to move–moving would waste valuable time, and increase the distance they had to travel to drop in on the warren of graduate students and post-docs in the sub-basement. Danny, on the other hand, was happy to get a view and enough space to pace.
Danny took a moment to rest, and sat down on the full-sized chesterfield sofa that filled the space between two over-sized bookcases on the long wall opposite the window. It had been left behind by the previous occupant, and, as far as Danny was aware, was unique in the department. Some of the other junior professors had brought in their own couches or futons, on which they could sleep during the crunch times, as tenure decisions loomed, and the time needed to commute home to sleep in their own beds was too precious to waste. This couch, however, had gravitas, and perhaps history. So many profound thoughts had been thought on this couch, and so many great naps taken–and, Danny mused, if the rumors about his predecessor were true, several legendary coeds as well.
A knock on the door brought Danny out of his revere. Through the frosted glass, he could see the silhouette of a petite female. It must be a student, Danny thought, because there was nobody in the department who satisfied both criteria.
“Come in,” Danny shouted. The door opened enough to admit the head of Jennifer Dalton, one of Danny’s former students. He recognized her immediately, because she had come to his office hours several times, having been determined and motivated, but having little natural aptitude for the subject matter.
“Professor Frenelli, do you have a moment?”
“Yes, please come in, Jennifer,” Danny answered. He rose from the couch, crossed to his computer table, and sat on the surface, feet on the floor.
Danny watched as Jennifer entered the room and sat down on the couch, taking the spot he had just left. She was dressed in a short sun dress with spaghetti straps and a low back. It was an outfit which, in contradiction to the usual saying, could provide a wealth of of opportunities to the imagination. As she sat, she crossed one leg over the other, and pulled the hem of her dress down to cover as much of her legs as possible, but the effort ended futilely well above her knees.
Danny was aware that she had closed the door behind her when she came in. Whatever happened next, he thought to himself, it would be better with the door open.
Danny opened the door and kicked the doorstop in place underneath it, wedging it open, and then resumed his leaning posture against the table.
Jennifer noticed the change, and her expression conveyed some sense of dismay, but said nothing.
“I hope you don’t mind if I keep the door open. I’m expecting someone,” Danny lied transparently, since the door had been closed a moment ago. He did not want to share his phobia of being caught by the department chair with an undergraduate in his office and his door closed–the chairman had become quite strict about such policies, due to a rash of alleged incidents of inappropriate professor/student relationships on campus. Danny knew that anyone in the hall–any straight male, at least–would have made a careful and detailed mental note of seeing Jennifer walk down the hall, and they probably would remember her closing the door behind her as well.
“That’s OK. I can understand. You must get a lot of visitors at the end of the year.”
“No, not really. Not many. People are too busy packing up, saying goodbye to their friends, getting ready for graduation and the summer. After the exams, after it’s too late for me to answer any more questions, I don’t get many visitors.” Danny smiled, in a way that he hoped didn’t make his words sound bitter.
“Oh, it must feel weird. Anyway, I came by because I wanted to thank you. I don’t think I would have passed the course without your help.”
Danny knew that the grades had been posted already, and so he wasn’t surprised that she knew her grade, which was little more than passing. He braced himself for the inevitable complaints that his grading had not been fair, had not taken extenuating circumstances into account, or had not reflected the effort made by the students, or had been biased in some way or another. Danny had heard every complaint imaginable, including several that challenged his ability not to laugh in the face of his students, or, in some extreme cases, their parents.
But Jennifer did not complain.
“I really worked hard in the course, and I probably would have dropped it, but you kept me going. I was really afraid after the first midterm. I really thought I was going to fail, and I’d have to switch majors, or get put on academic probation, or something. But you didn’t let me.”
Jennifer paused and looked at the rug for a moment.
“I really appreciate your thanks. It’s the nicest possible thing that a student can say to a teacher,” said Danny.
Jennifer looked up. “I don’t really know how to say this and I’m afraid that it’s going to sound bad. I’m going to drop out of the program. I’m not cut out for this–I do a lot better in my other courses, and I don’t have to stay up all night doing the homework. But I don’t want you to think that it’s because of you. It’s not you. You’re great. I wish every professor was like you.”
Danny had no response, and Jennifer had nothing to add. She looked around the room and saw the tape, bubble pack, and stacks of book boxes.
“Moving to another office?” she asked.
“Sort of. Moving to another job. I haven’t been reappointed.”
Jennifer looked puzzled.
“I’ve been let go. Fired,” continued Danny.
“That sucks.”
“I’m fine. I’ve got some solid leads on another job.”
“No, I mean it sucks for us! Students; people like me! I’m sure you’re going to be OK, eventually anyway, but who is going to teach your courses? Nobody else gives a shit!”
“I’ve met my replacement. She’s great, and she’s a great teacher. I don’t think it’s fair to say that nobody else cares, but everyone has his or her own style of interacting with students. Everything will be fine for you, and fine for me.”
Jennifer could see the lie on his face. Danny didn’t really know where he was going.
“I’m sorry. You’re a good teacher, and you’re a nice person, and it’s a loss to the college.”
“It’s not a big deal. I’ve been expecting it for a while.”
Jennifer looked down at the rug again and was silent for a moment. Danny could see that she was thinking something through.
“Listen, I want to do something for you. A going away present, I guess,” Jennifer said in a soft voice.
Danny checked that the door was still propped open. He could be in the hall in two quick steps. He could hear people talking just down the hall; potential witnesses.
Jennifer smiled, and then continued. “The other day, I overheard you talking to Professor White about the problems you are having with your car. If there’s anyone who deserves a reliable ride, I think it’s you. And I this is something I can help you with.”
Danny had no idea what she might mean, but since he had long experience dealing with students, who often communicated in dialects of English with which Danny had little familiarity, he patiently waited for clarification.
Jennifer rummaged through her purse, extracted a pen and a small pad, tore off a page, scribbled something on it, recapped the pen, and restored the pen and pad in her purse in one fluid motion.
“Call this number and make an appointment. It’s my godfather. He’ll fix your car. I mean, he’ll really fix it. I’ve told him about you. He likes you already.”
Rising from the couch, she crossed the room, stopped in front of Danny, and held out her right hand. Danny recognized the gesture, and extended his own hand to shake hers. When he let go, she pressed the piece of paper she held in her left hand into his hand.
“Goodbye, Professor Frenelli. I hope we’ll cross paths again, someday, and I hope your new college appreciates you more than this one did.” Jennifer said.
Danny wanted to tell her that there wasn’t going to be another college, but it wasn’t something he was ready to discuss, and before he found any words, she turned and quickly and walked out of the office. Danny could hear the flap of her sandals fade and then end as she reached doors to the stairwell. She was gone.
Danny looked at the piece of paper. It had a phone number, and beneath, a name: Santiago.
