Chapter 3
three
. . .
Violet
By the time I made it to my office, mercifully, no one was standing outside. All I had to do was hope that for the next hour, it stayed that way. My hands were still shaking from my run-in with him. I took a huge gulp of my chai latte as I settled into my slightly broken desk chair. I took ten deep breaths — in five seconds, out seven — and when that did little to calm my racing heart, I defaulted to my other coping mechanism— burying myself in my work.
I manage to answer five emails and write a line of code when there is a knock on my office door. I turn to see a 6’4 blonde sporting a ‘Westchester University Men’s Hockey’ t-shirt. I make it three years without a single hockey player in my life and now they are popping up all over the place.
The blonde clears his throat. “Hey it’s Jake. Are office hours still going on? ”
“Yes! Come on in and feel free to take a seat.” I gesture to the other chair I’d struggled to fit into my broom closet-turned-office. “What can I help you with?”
“I’ve gotten Ds on the past two homework assignments, and I was wondering if we could maybe figure something out.” He pulls two crumpled worksheets from his backpack and hands them over to me.
I reach into my bag and pull out the answer key to the assignments, then take a few minutes to scan through his responses. Immediately I notice a pattern of misunderstanding key concepts discussed in lecture, which often happens in large classes like PSYCH101. I start to delve into the difference between correlational and experimental studies, when Jake says, “Coach has really been on my ass lately about my grades, and I was thinking maybe you could just take a second look and bump me up to a C, or even a C+. I know it would probably look shady if I went from a D to a B, so I’m willing to compromise.”
I blink a few times, needing more time to process what he just asked of me. “I’m sorry?”
“I know that’s not my finest work, but I’m sure if you read it again you’ll notice places where you were a little harsh with grading and give me some points back.” He nods back to the papers I’m holding and flashes me a smirk. A smirk that’s filled with such entitlement I know this isn’t the first time he’s asked for a grade change.
“I’m looking at the answer key right now. Unfortunately, I don't see any places where you were mistakenly penalized. I am happy to walk you through these different concepts though and answer any questions you may have.”
It’s a struggle to keep my tone level. Calm. Nothing to hint at the building irritation slowly forming. The cocky grin on Jake’s face widens, and his tone is unmistakably condescending.
“Are you sure? There’s really nothing you can do?” He gestures again to the papers in my hands as if that would clear up my eyesight .
“You’re more than welcome to take it up with the professor if you would like and ask her to regrade it. However, I try to be lenient when I grade these assignments and I can’t promise that Dr. Grant will do the same. You risk lowering your grade by asking her for a regrade.”
As I hand him back his papers, I brace myself for his last-ditch effort to woo me. Don’t curse at the student Violet. Just a few more minutes and this will all be over. Soon you can go home and see if Mary secures the deal for that beach-facing property. The smirk on Jake’s face fades, and irritation fills its place.
“C’mon Violet. Can’t you cut me a little slack? I had two big games the night before these assignments were due.”
“Again, any grade changes are going to have to go through Dr. Grant. If you’re worried about your grade in the class, I’m happy to talk to her about a make-up assignment for you to earn extra credit.”
Having worked as a teaching assistant for Darcy for the past two semesters I knew she was willing to give her students second chances if they were trying their best. Can’t say that Mr. Hockey here was trying his best, but I desperately wanted this moment to be over. “We’ve offered that a few times to students in the past and they’ve all been able to recover their grades with the additional points.”
“I barely have enough time to do the homework as it is.” Jake rolls his eyes, crumples up his assignment and throws it inside his bag. “Well, if you can’t change my grade, can you at least give me an extension for the next assignment? It’s due the night after our game at Bolton which is honestly just unfair. The whole school is gonna be at that game.”
Westchester University had always been a hockey school, which wasn’t entirely surprising given the thick hockey culture that ran through Boston. The best players from all around the US and Canada were recruited to come play here, and very few turned down the offer given the institution’s stellar track record of getting players drafted to the NHL. Student sections for home games were always packed, and tickets for big rivalry games, like Bolton’s, could get as expensive as seats to see the Boston Bruins. The hockey players knew their value to the university and had no issues taking advantage of that fact.
“We don’t typically grant extensions unless it’s due to extenuating circumstances, and previously scheduled games that you were aware of do not count.” My tone comes out clipped, but I can’t feign sympathy for his situation. Once you’ve seen one college jock begging for grade inflation, you’ve seen them all.
“Whatever, this was clearly a waste of my time.” He throws his backpack over his shoulder and slams the office door shut. Now I am not only on edge, but the tension headache I’d fought off is back. Fabulous.