Chapter 25
Forty minutes later, the class was over. “If you could fill out the survey in your email, I would so appreciate it!” I called out to the students and they filtered out the room, already half ignoring me and chatting happily with each other while cradling their newly restored books in their arms.
Dr. O’Macklin shut his laptop and crossed to see me in the front of the room. “Nicely done, Harper,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said, packing up my tools and materials. Luckily I’d brought it all over in my rolling suitcase, so I could easily cart everything back to Adam’s apartment without his assistance. He’d already packed up and left for the day, off to do some grading of his own. “I had so much fun teaching.”
“It looked like it. You’re a natural with the students.” Dr. O’Macklin dipped his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Have you considered teaching?”
With a little laugh, I shrugged, tucking the leftover books we didn’t use back into the suitcase. “Hardly. I spent most of my childhood and teenage years hating school… until I met Adam.”
“What about your adult years?”
“I loved college,” I admitted with a smile. “Maybe it’s why I want to continue my work at universities rather than become a librarian like a lot of my colleagues.”
“So you would consider teaching then? At a college level?”
I wrapped the press I’d used for the demo in extra bubble wrap and gently placed it on top of the books. “I guess I would. But I wouldn’t want to give up my personal work of restoring books. And there’s not a lot of restoration programs in the US, so it seems like a moot point.”
Unless I moved back to Europe. But with Adam? That move was the furthest thing from my mind. I picked up the second press that the students used and began to meticulously protect it with my remaining bubble wrap.
Dr. O’Macklin exhaled something that sounded like a mix of a sigh and a chuckle. “I don’t think I’m making myself clear. Let me try again. Would you consider teaching at a college level here at Dartmouth?”
I froze, clutching the press in my white-knuckled grip. I couldn’t have heard him right. “But… but you don’t have a restoration program here at Dartmouth.”
“That’s correct. We don’t… yet. But I spoke with the board and based on the amount of interest you had for this class, we thought it might be a good idea to offer a few restoration classes for English and library majors. We wouldn’t jump in adding a major yet. Just a few classes every semester as an introduction for those students who might be considering it as a focus. If that goes well, we would upgrade it to a minor and see how that goes.”
Stunned, I stared blinking at him, dumbfounded. “You’re considering making book restoration a minor because Anna found ten people who wanted this one-day masterclass?”
Dr. O’Macklin tilted his head at me. “Anna had forty-seven signatures… not ten. When you proposed the class to me, you mentioned you wanted a small class so you could be more hands on, so I held a raffle for the remaining nine spaces in your class, obviously giving Anna the first.”
I gently set the press down. I couldn’t be trusted holding expensive equipment with this information being thrown at me. “There were forty-seven people interested in my one-day class?” I asked.
Dr. O’Macklin nodded. “I’m so sorry, I thought you knew that. I assumed Anna told you since you two have been working so closely this week.”
I thought back to my private lessons with Anna this week. How she’d seemed so excited for me, but every time she asked me questions, I would confide in her that I was nervous. That I wanted it to be a small class. That a large class would intimidate me. “I… I think she kept it from me so I wouldn’t get too nervous today.”
“Ahhh. That sounds like Anna,” Dr. O’Macklin said with a smile. It was incredible how well he knew the students in his department despite it being so large.
“Okay, if I was considering this, how many classes would we start with?”
“Initially, it wouldn’t be a minor for the first year. So I’m imagining four classes a week. With at least one masterclass like this each semester.”
I nodded, doing the math in my head of what professors get paid per class. “That’s not enough to make a full living on,” I admitted. I wanted to stay at Dartmouth so badly. “I’ll be honest, I just got offered a full time position at Stanford. It’s going to be hard to beat the salary they’re offering out there.”
In truth, I didn’t know the salary yet since I hadn’t received the email offer yet. But there was no doubt it paid more than four classes a semester.
“Stanford,” Dr. O’Macklin repeated, chewing his top lip in thought. “Okay. Let me sweeten the pot a little, yes? Five classes a semester. I’ll let you choose the days and times of your classes… a luxury very few of our professors receive. I’ll have to get approval from the board for this, but I could probably pay you $7,000 per three credit course… and give you three courses per semester.”
I did some quick math in my head… with summer classes, I was probably looking at about 65k per year at that price. Plus three courses was part time work, so I’d still have 10-20 hours per week to do my own book restoration business. Though it would be a challenge to travel to libraries in that off-time, it wouldn’t be impossible. Especially if I was given first dibs at making my class schedule.
Or, if I could convince the other university libraries to ship me their books for restoration, I wouldn’t have to travel much at all. I could run my business right here from New Hampshire.
Straightening my spine, I went for it. Negotiating wasn’t my strength, but I had to try. “I would need a private classroom that was dedicated only to book restoration as well as a working studio space to conduct my work of book restoration. A space that would solely be mine that no other professor or student has access to.”
“A private classroom and a studio space?”
I gestured to the three rolling suitcase I was currently packing up of tools and equipment. “As you can see, these materials are cumbersome. Heavy. And expensive. I can’t be carting them in and out of a shared classroom. Not to mention, some of the books I work on are worth thousands of dollars. I need a safe space to do my personal work.”
Dr. O’Macklin looked around at the equipment for a long breath. “The classroom I can do,” he said with a nod. “The studio space is a little harder. We have professors on salary who don’t even have their own studio space.”
I pressed my lips together. It was a long shot. But for me to rent a space to do my work would severely cut into the money I was making teaching. It almost wouldn’t justify taking the job at all.
“What if you continue giving me the apartment I was in?” I asked. “It’s housing specifically meant for staff and faculty… which I would officially now be.”
Professor O’Macklin narrowed his eyes. “But you and Adam…”
I lifted my brows as his words faded away. The unspoken traveled between us. The board didn’t know Adam and I were living together. The board didn’t have to know. At least for now.
A smile spread across his face. “You know what, that could work, Ms. Meyer.” He held out his hand for me to shake.
I took his hand in mine and gave it a good shake. “I think you mean Professor Meyer.”