Chapter 5 #2
Dr. Matthews chuckles and shakes her head, rubbing her forehead.
“A bit, yes. So, part of redistributing is that you’ll serve as grader for two other professors for the next two semesters.
You won’t have any lecturing responsibilities for them, but you will grade all papers, quizzes, tests, etc.
Both professors mainly teach undergraduate courses and have a much lighter class load.
Dr. Miller is an adjunct, and she teaches three basic English comp classes online.
Dr. Belanger is a crossover professor from the foreign languages department.
He has three classes this semester, I believe?
One is a graduate-level course and the other two are undergrad.
He teaches French language, French lit, and an English comp class.
Originally I had planned to only add Dr. Miller to your workload, but you are the only TA in our department who speaks French, so you’re the only person capable of grading for Dr. Belanger. ”
I’m writing the class list down as quickly as possible, tallying the ever-growing workload coming my way. Yes, I speak French, but I don’t use it very often so I’m a bit rusty.
“Ok, six classes for you, two for Dr. Miller, and three for Dr. Belanger — so eleven total.”
“Yes, but you’re only responsible for teaching the one English comp class we discussed and you’ll lecture on an as-needed basis for my other five.
You won’t have to sub in for Miller or Belanger.
Online students are a pain, but most of their questions you can pawn off on IT as they aren’t course related.
Dr. Belanger is pretty hands-on with his students, so you shouldn’t have to field questions from them. ”
“Sounds doable.” I think. Please, God, don’t let me drown my first semester here!
She looks at me with confidence in her eyes.
“I know it’s a lot but we’re stretched thin this year.
We were supposed to get one new professor and three new TAs, but the board thinks engineering is more important than English, so they got the padded budget this year.
Amelia and I are working on a few grant proposals due this spring, so hopefully we can get more funding from those instead of fighting the board. ”
I nod in understanding. “I’m vaguely aware of how university budgets work from my time in my previous program, but Dr. Ryan wasn’t much of an administrator so he didn’t handle any of the numbers.
He was the consummate absent-minded professor.
Super smart, very passionate about his work, not great with details outside his field of study. ”
Dr. Matthews’ face lights up at the mention of Dr. Ryan. “I remember your application stating that you studied with Dr. Ryan for a few years. I’ve met him a few times and I can definitely see him as a one-track mind kind of man. And you’re spot on about the passion — that man has charisma.”
I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. I don’t want to get into a conversation about Dr. Ryan. But I also don’t want to let on that I’m no longer his biggest fan. That man went from maven to moron in one conversation, and if I never see him again I’ll be perfectly happy.
“Am I assuming correctly that you becoming Sunny’s guardian had something to do with you leaving his program?”
Shit, I really don’t want to talk about this.
“Yes. I had a lot on my plate at that time — grieving my sister, learning to be a parent, working and studying, moving in with my parents. Working for Dr. Ryan was more than a typical full-time teaching assistant position. I worked on a lot of research projects with him and also took a full course load. I was trying to finish my master’s in two years even though it’s set up as a three-year program, so I was pretty slammed. ”
“I’ve heard working with Dr. Ryan is quite the experience, to say the least.”
Ha — understatement. She has no idea. And that experience went far beyond what I signed up for.
“It was. And crazy competitive. The students at Grant are like sharks, always circling and looking for any opportunity to strike.”
She shrugs. “Well, when you have the celebrity status he has in our world of academia, that’s to be expected.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I say, pushing my glasses up and attempting to hide my disdain for Jonathan Ryan behind a fake as fuck smile.
“I don’t mean to pry, but given the work it takes to become Dr. Ryan’s right hand and the competitive nature of his program, why didn’t you just slow down?
Why did you decide to leave the program entirely?
It seems like a lot of effort to walk away from, and Dr. Ryan is so selective with his students I’m sure convincing him to let you go wasn’t easy.
” Ha. Let me go? That bastard let a lot of things go — like the truth.
I let out a sharp breath and shake my head, looking down at my lap. Why can’t she stop asking questions I don’t want to answer?
I reestablish eye contact, professional smile in place, and answer her as best I can without flat out lying.
“You are not the first person to ask me that question. I wish I had a cut-and-dry answer, but the truth is complicated. A lot happened around the time my sister died, both with my family and in my school life. I was overwhelmed and something had to give. I weighed all my options and Dr. Ryan was willing to work with me to slow down and hand off some of my teaching responsibilities to other students.”
I look back down at my notebook, unable to hide the pain in my eyes for much longer. I swallow. “Some unfortunate things happened during that time, and I decided it was best to leave school and focus on raising Sunny.”
Look up, confident posture and smile back in place. And, go. “I always planned to finish, and that’s why I’m here now.” There. Not a lie. She doesn’t need to know the details.
She smiles, warmly. “I’m sure you are an incredible mother to that little girl. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too. And thank you. I’ve certainly had a lot of help with Sunny. There’s no way that kid would be half as awesome if she only had me raising her.”
Dr. Matthews laughs. “What is it they say? It takes a village?”
“It certainly does.” I nod in agreement.
“Right then. Amelia has a packet for you at her desk with your employment paperwork and the extra syllabus for the intensive. She should have contacted IT this morning to get your school login credentials. Once you log in you’ll see the courses divided by professor, in addition to the classes you’re taking. How many are you taking this semester?”
“Just one. I haven’t been in school for nearly a decade, and when I got the job as your TA I decided to ease my way back into being a student instead of taking on a full load from the start.”
“Smart. Especially with the extra work I’ve tossed at you.”
I laugh. “No doubt.”
“I want to introduce you to Dr. Belanger while you’re here. I think he’s on campus today — hold on a sec.” She stands and walks to her office door, opening it slightly. “Amelia, can you call Deborah in languages and find out if Dr. Belanger is in his office? Thank you.”
She turns and walks back toward her desk chair. “If he’s in today we’ll walk downstairs and you can meet him.”
“Same building? That’s convenient. I guess it makes sense to keep all the languages together.”
Dr. Matthews nods her head. “Especially when you have crossover professors.” Amelia says something from her desk, and Dr. Matthews turns back toward the door. “Feel free to leave your things here. We’ll come back up afterward so you can grab your employment packet and such.”
I stand and follow her out of the office.
Her heels don’t make that high-pitched click as she walks — a sure sign of expensive footwear — and standing next to her I hope I don’t look like a child.
She’s 5’10” of sexy, professional boss lady, and here I am, 5’5” on a good day, with my Peter Pan collared blouse and, in case you forgot, yellow shoes.
I thought I looked sophisticated when I left the apartment this morning, but now I feel more like Ms. Frizzle.
Hold on, let me overthink this. The blouse is fine, but I should have worn a pencil skirt and heels.
At least then I’d look more sexy librarian than nerd.
Eh, but then it’d set a precedent that I consider myself somewhere in the same league as Dr. Matthews — the boss lady major league.
Pfft. Yeah right. It’s better that I showed up looking like myself.
Professional, cute, and quirky. Take a deep breath, Alis.
I run my hands down the front of my blouse and skirt, smoothing any wrinkles that developed while sitting. Everything seems nice and smooth, so I stop fretting over my outfit and walk next to Dr. Matthews down the hall, down the stairs, and then to Pod A: Languages on the first floor.
“Deborah, it’s so nice to see you.” Dr. Matthews smiles at the faculty secretary, who looks a heck of a lot more frazzled than the calm and sweet Amelia.
“Hi, Dr. Matthews. Dr. Belanger just got off a call so you should be good to head in.”
“Thanks.” She motions for me to follow her and heads toward the last office on the right, which has “D. Belanger, French” carved into the nameplate on the wall next to the door.
She knocks and pokes her head in, checking to make sure he’s ready for visitors. I stand behind her a few feet, waiting to be welcomed in. The professors greet each other and then Dr. Matthews pushes the door the rest of the way open and tilts her head inside. I walk in behind her.
“Dr. Belanger, this is Aurora Gilmore, my new TA who will be grading for your classes this year.”
I step out from behind Dr. Matthews as a tall man wearing tailored trousers and a button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves walks around his desk. His long hair hides his face as he cleans his glasses with a cloth and puts them back on.
“I apologize for the clutter. Hi, Aurora —” Dr. Belanger looks up and we make eye contact. He freezes. My eyes go wide.
No, no, noooooo freaking way. No way is this happening.
Dr. Belanger and I have met once before.
Last Friday night, to be exact.
At a club.
Sitting at the bar.
Where we exchanged phone numbers and kissed and he made me all tingly in my lady bits.
Up until this point, however, I only knew him as Sexy Dexy.