Chapter 6 Orientation & Confrontation #2
I glanced over at Cooper again. He was laughing at something the bald man said, hand on his stomach and head thrown back.
He looked like a completely different person from the brooding, grumpy man I had had the misfortune of interacting with, thus far.
This version of Cooper was good-natured and self-assured, and the contrast was jarring.
He ran a hand through his hair, and I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
The man must have had a sixth sense for when I had my eyes on him. His head twisted in my direction, and his face fell into the scowl that I was growing accustomed to. Busted. I gave him a little finger wave before turning back to the hens.
“Do any of you have tips for handling a difficult coworker?” I asked.
The hens looked between each other before turning to me with matching expressions of pity.
“Nothing? Seriously?”
“Just be yourself. He’ll come around,” Phyllis said. Christine and Rebecca nodded their agreement.
“Be polite and professional. Take the higher road,” Ashley added.
“Polite and professional,” I echoed, slightly dismayed.
I tried to smile in gratitude, but it felt forced. While well-intentioned, their advice was much easier said than done. None of them had been on the receiving end of Cooper’s ire. I had been trying to be polite and professional since the moment I met him, and that didn’t seem to be working.
Teachers began filing off the stage once the auditorium was free of students.
“Alright, ladies,” Ashley said. “To the cafeteria.” She waved her hands, shooing us toward the aisle.
A tall form appeared in my periphery as I pressed in behind the hens. Cooper stood only a few paces away. Now seemed like as good a time as any to try being polite and professional again. I maneuvered over to him, offering a sunny smile.
“Good evening, Mr. Cooper,” I said. “Are you looking forward to classes tomorrow?” Very polite.
He looked down at me, face impassive, but I continued to blast him with my smile as we shuffled with the herd of teachers. There was nowhere for him to go.
“Yes,” he said reluctantly.
I tried not to roll my eyes since that would be unprofessional. He had plenty to say the last time I saw him, but now he had regressed to the one-word responses. Though, that was somewhat preferable to arguing.
“Anywho…” I continued politely. “Did you have a chance to look at my notes on the lesson plan?”
“You practically rewrote it,” he grunted. He was looking forward, refusing to make eye contact with me.
“Well,” I said, bobbing my head to the side, professionally, “it didn’t align very closely with the textbook.”
“The textbook is garbage,” he replied. “My way is better.”
I tugged on his jacket sleeve, demanding his attention. “But the syllabus has us teaching the textbook material,” I protested.
The intensity of his dark eyes staring down at me had my heart rate spiking. I sucked in a breath.
“The goal is to teach chemistry, not a textbook,” he said, before looking away.
We exited the auditorium into the sticky, late-summer evening. Cooper lengthened his stride once he was free of the crush of teachers, and I had to pick up my pace to keep up with him.
“We were hired to teach the approved curriculum. You can’t just go changing how things are done because you don’t agree with them. In my secondary education class at Columbia—”
He rounded on me, and I nearly crashed into his chest. I had his attention now. All of it. I craned my neck to make eye contact and began regretting my life choices.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Education theory taught in a fancy university isn’t the same as getting in front of a room full of real kids that have their minds on ninety-nine things other than whatever you’re talking about. I know what actually works.”
This guy was seriously stubborn. What kind of person doubles down when you call them out for screwing up?
“Maybe that was just the students you were teaching. The students here might be more engaged.”
“Why? Because they’re rich? News flash—money can’t buy an attention span.
” I sputtered in protest, but he barreled on.
“This generation is built different. They grew up with screens under their noses from the minute they could hold their heads up. If you can’t keep their attention—which you definitely can’t—it will be on to the next thing in a nanosecond. ”
“That’s not what I meant.” I wiped my sweaty palms on the sides of my skirt. “I don’t think money has anything to do with engagement. You’re jumping to conclusions without even trying to follow the recommended process.”
He carded a hand through his hair while shaking his head. “Trust me—I’ve tried everything. My methods might not be conventional, but they fucking work. And I’m going to do this my way whether you agree or not.”
I straightened to my full height, bolstered, tonight, by a pair of platform heels, and met his derisive glare. “You’re right. I don’t agree. And I’m not going to let you lead me off a cliff with that asinine lesson plan.”
He rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck inside his head. “How big of a donation did your parents make so Richmond would hire you?”
I saw red, and let out a noise halfway between a gasp and a growl. All pretenses of politeness or professionalism went out the window.
“How many times do I have to tell you—my parents had nothing to do with this!”
He scoffed and started to turn away, but I stopped him with a hand on his forearm.
“If you want to ignore the syllabus,” I continued, “then fine. You teach your way, I’ll teach mine, and we’ll see who’s still here at the end of the semester.”
“Finally, something we can agree on,” he said, his eyes black in the dwindling light.
“Fine,” I snapped and pushed past him.
After that little exchange, my appetite was gone.
I stormed down the path toward Brookside Hall rather than the cafeteria, trying to ignore the way my skin was still buzzing from where I had touched him.
My phone was in my hand before I realized what I was doing, and then I heard the reassuring sound of Silvia’s voice through the line.
“Hey, babes! What’s up? I thought you had a thing tonight.”
“That’s right,” I said, and walked faster, away from the crowd.
Silvia immediately picked up on the quaver in my voice. “Oh, babes—are we mad or sad?”
“Both, I think.”
She hummed in acknowledgment, and I knew she was nodding her head too. “Talk to me. We’ll figure this out.”
Every twisty feeling I’d had since returning to campus poured out of me like a dam bursting.
Hope and fear, optimism and doubt flowed out of my mouth in waves of words as I wound through the chestnut trees toward my apartment.
I talked about Richmond and Cooper and my father and myself.
And when I was done talking, I felt spent in the same way I did after finishing a half marathon—tired, but also lighter because the words were out.
I didn’t have to carry this mental load anymore, at least not alone.
“I wish I could give you a hug,” Silvia said, and I couldn’t agree more.