Chapter 41
Ryan
So far, I’m killing this interview. We’re in a classroom at Haleakala Community College, which oddly looks an awful lot like Coastal Vista. I’m being judged by the dean of STEM, three math professors, and a chemistry professor.
First, I presented my lecture on optimization word problems about a lifeguard named Bryan who needs to save someone who’s drowning from a shark attack.
The interviewers chuckled and followed along, but they told me they’re not allowed to give much feedback beyond that. It’s fine. I know I’m doing well.
After that, they handed me a sheet of five college-level math problems and asked me to solve them on the whiteboard, explaining like I would if I were tutoring a student. Thankfully, I’ve been teaching these topics for years and solved them just fine.
So now I’m answering questions on general teaching philosophy and being a colleague at their school.
The department chair, Jon Keahi, takes the first question. “Ryan, tell us what makes you the best candidate?”
“Well, I’m obviously good at math,” I say, gesturing to the board with my solutions, a grin on my face.
The committee members laugh. “I’m down to earth, which is a good fit for this community.
And I genuinely love teaching. I love helping students get the confidence they crave from solving a problem correctly.
I love helping students see where math applies in their real lives.
Maybe my optimization problem with Bryan the lifeguard won’t be an accurate representation of applying calculus to real world problems, but at least it gives them something to connect to.
” I pause, thinking for a minute. “I also relate to the students who live here. I moved here with my mom when I was a teenager, and she still lives in Lahaina. So I’m not some transplant, coming to Maui with a dream of living on the island.
I know what it’s like, and I want to be here. ”
The members of the committee nod and take notes on their papers. Then it’s a woman’s turn to ask me a question. I don’t remember all of their names, but she’s one of the math professors. “And how do you engage students in the classroom?”
I spend a few minutes explaining my methods of lecturing, how I use multiple whiteboards around the room to get students out of their seats and working on the boards, and how I treat class like a conversation more than a lecture, and they all seem happy with that.
The dean asks the next question. “Now Ryan, we’re looking for someone who will be here for the long-term and incorporate themselves into our college culture. So, where do you see yourself in five years?”
Five years from now.
Two weeks ago, if you asked me where I’d be in five years, I’d tell you my dream life would be married to Claire with a kid or two.
We’d be happily tenured at Coastal Vista, running the tutoring center, and settled at home in California.
Because as much as I’m playing up this “I love Hawaii” thing with the committee, I’m not totally sold on living here for the long haul.
I swallow hard, trying to come up with an answer that’s truthful but also what they want to hear.
Where do I see myself in five years? Now that I’ve lost Claire, both as a friend and hypothetical romantic partner, I’m completely lost.
“Take your time,” the dean says, noting my discomfort.
Great. Now I’m having visible issues answering the question. I’m sure they’re loving this.
“Well, in five years I’d love to be tenured, teaching the classes I love most, which are calculus and pre-calculus,” I say. “I want to have my established place in the college, as well. Maybe I’d work on a tutoring center here, as well. And…yeah.”
The reactions aren’t nearly as enthusiastic as my previous responses, despite the fact that they’re supposed to mask their emotions. My heart races, and my hands get a little clammy, so I wipe them on my pants. Inhale, exhale. I can do this.
But the nerves have gotten to me, and the rest of the interview goes similarly to the last question. I clam up, my words come out awkward and stammered, and I can’t think clearly enough to be my usual, charming self.
When the interview is over, they take turns shaking my hand and say they’ll be in touch in about a week to let me know if I’ve made it to the next level of interviews. But I’m pretty sure I won’t.
My heart is heavy as I leave the classroom, slinging my messenger bag over my shoulder.
Jon points me in the direction of the parking lot, and I head that way, my eyes on the ground.
Now what? Mom is fine with me staying here through the summer, but I can only spend so much time on an air mattress in the middle of her living room.
Without a job, though, I’m not sure I can afford my own place.
Do I go looking for something else? I guess I could.
I can always start tutoring. It’s a pretty lucrative gig, as long as you can find clients.
But will people want to give me their business?
What if there’s already a local math tutor that everyone is using?
This is rough. I never wanted to move here. But I figured if I was going to move away from Coastal Vista, Hawaii would be the next best option.
Now I’m not so sure.
I miss Claire, I miss home, and I miss my old job. Did I make the wrong decision in moving away?
I’m nearly at the parking lot, and I look up to see how far away I am from it.
And standing in front of me…
Is Claire. Standing there like a vision, a light breeze blowing her auburn hair and purple floral dress.
I stop in my tracks, about ten feet away from her. I blink a few times, wondering if she’s really here or if my mind is playing tricks on me. My eyes are adjusting to the sun, and to make sure it’s not a dream, I slap myself across the face. Just like I did when I saw Zach propose to her on TV.
Nope. Not a dream.
Claire—who I have officially confirmed is actually Claire, and not a dream—furrows her brow. “Did you just slap yourself?”
“I guess I did.” I rub my cheek and take a few steps closer to her, but I keep my distance. “What are you doing here?”
She chews on her lip, then speaks. “I came to see you.”
Her words send hope into my chest, but I tamp it down. The last time I saw her, she told me she was still getting married, even if that meant losing our friendship. So I have to know. “Does Zach know you’re here?”
She shrugs. “I don’t think so. I broke off the engagement.” She holds up her left hand, which now has a bare ring finger.
She’s not engaged.
I feel like my chest might explode.
She takes a few steps forward, and I fight between two impulses. One is to back up and stay away from her, and the other is to pull her close and kiss her, because she’s finally, FINALLY, single.
“Why did you break it off?” I ask.
“Because we were wrong for each other,” she says. “Because I don’t love him the way I should love my husband.” She takes two more steps until she’s just a foot away. “Because those feelings already belong to someone else.”
I swallow hard. “Who?”
She tilts her head. “You, Ryan. I love you.”
I let out a laugh and look up at the sky, then back at her. I feel tears forming in my eyes.
She continues. “I’m in love with you, Ryan, and I’m so sorry I didn’t see it sooner. You’re not just my best friend. You’re my other half, the missing variable in the equation of my life. I don’t want to spend another day without you.”
My heart is pounding, and I take a step toward her, closing the gap between us. I grin down at her. “I’m in love with you, too.”
“Yeah,” she says with a smirk. “I know.”
“I made it pretty clear, didn’t I?”
She nods. “And I’m so glad you did.”
I lift my hands and take hers, a thrill rushing through me. “So it’s okay if I do this?”
She looks down at our hands, then back up at me, and nods.
I run my right hand up her left arm, my fingers grazing her skin as I trace a line up to her shoulder. “And it’s okay if I do this?”
She shivers lightly and nods again.
I lift my hand, brushing the hair that frames her face and tucking it behind her ear. “And this is okay, too?”
She closes her eyes at my touch and nods again.
I lean toward her and whisper, “I’m going to kiss you now.”
“I was hoping you would,” she says.
So I do.