I dreamed of a scenario where I had a guy present the same project just to see what kind of response he would get, but it was complicated and not something I knew how to do.
He also had an attitude I was becoming too familiar with. Pure mathematics, that was the ultimate. Applied math, like the finance stuff my project dealt with? Next best. Math education? Only for those who couldn’t handle the other two. I felt myself getting further behind and it was so frustrating.
Mom and Dad had diverted money from Nora’s education account to mine, since Nora was only going part-time now and I was on the PhD track. They wanted us to be free to concentrate on our studies instead of working, so the only job I’d ever had was tutoring. It was great experience for teaching and helping the students I was responsible for now, but if I dragged out this program, the money would be gone and I’d have to take loans or get a job or both. I wasn’t sure there were enough steady tutoring gigs.
I frowned at my laptop, email open. I could make an official complaint. I’d drafted a letter detailing all the problems I’d encountered. I just had to add the address for the chair of the department. But could I really do that? What repercussions might follow? Was it even possible for me to graduate with the way he was behaving?
Maybe I shouldn’t be here. Nora dropped out when she had a eureka moment after getting pregnant—was this my moment of truth?
“Ms. Baker?”
I slammed my laptop shut as I looked up to the third-year student who was standing in front of my desk.
I shared this space with the other math TAs but had my own desk. We spent some office hours here, but normally I worked at the condo.
“How can I help you?”
Norman was one of the keener students, so I didn’t have a problem remembering his name. He showed up for every lecture and every lab, happy to ask and answer questions. He loved my math T-shirts, so that was a sign of good taste.
He was wearing a faded hoodie and khakis, backpack on his shoulder. His hair was falling down over his glasses and he fidgeted, looking over my shoulder then down at my desk, never quite settling.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded, jerkily. “I heard that you know one of the hockey players? On the Blaze?”
I blinked. Not what I’d been expecting. “Yeah, I went to high school with Josh Middleton.”
“Ducky.”
I waited. Was this some kind of test, where I was supposed to prove I knew him? I wasn’t playing that game. It didn’t matter to our TA/student relationship if I was or not, and I had no desire to share my personal life.
“So, like, do you ever see him?”
“Norman, that’s not really any of your business.”
“I just wanted to get his autograph. I’ve got his jersey and hoped maybe if you knew him, you could do that?”
I liked Norman. But I didn’t owe him any favors. I didn’t need to start a precedent with students coming to me to get autographs or pictures or any of the other things people asked Josh for. And I had no intention of taking advantage of my friendship. Did people do that? Maybe there was a reason Josh wanted me as a friend.
“Norman, I’m your TA. I’m happy to help you with anything you need in your coursework. However, my private life and my friends are not open to exploitation.”
His cheeks flushed. “Sorry. I just thought, if you did know him, you wouldn’t mind helping out. I’d do you a favor too.”
“I appreciate the offer, but no.”
He turned away but stopped in the doorway. “But you do know him, right? Any chance he might come by?”
Not if I had anything to do with it. Jeepers. “I wouldn’t announce if any of my friends were coming to visit. Especially not if I felt people would take advantage of them.”
He almost bumped into my advisor, standing in the doorway. “What has that young man in such a tizzy?”
“He wanted me to do a favor for him.”
“An extension?”
Was there a way I could avoid explaining the details? “No.”
He stood, waiting.
