Read Online Compliments by Mari K. Cicero - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mari K. Cicero
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understood the problem was unsolvable. The rest of your classmates all found answers, but only by assuming certain values that, while often true, are not universally so.”
I’m still unsure if he’s actually complimenting me or just stuffing more powder down the barrel before taking aim. “I realized after reviewing the problem that I couldn’t assume all the values. I hope you’re not upset.”
“Upset? I’m congratulating you on being right by having the courage not to be wrong, Miss Lewis.” He looks off in the distance, as if pulling out an old box from his memories. “He who knows best knows when he knows not, or something like that. I shouldn’t be surprised, I guess. I understand that at Colorado you worked under Matthias Gnomon.”
In a flash, I feel my hackles raise. “How did you know about Matthias?”
“Be … cause … it’s in … your file?” Prof. Harrison’s words stumble from his lips, and all at once I feel idiotic for lashing out. “You did study with him, right? Your file said he signed off on your undergraduate thesis.”
“He did.” My shoulders relax as I do my best to seem suddenly nonchalant. Prof. Harrison appears wary at my outburst, so I change the subject. “Can I take my paper with me now?”
“Not yet. I just wanted to show you the mark. There’s only one or two students each year who get a perfect score on this assignment. I use it specifically as a sieve of sorts.”
“To filter out which students?” I ask.
My eyes follow his hand as he shoves the pile of papers back in his briefcase, and I spot a small wrench set and a sewing kit inside. I smother a smile, knowing I shouldn’t judge a professor who has a taste for stitching or random tools. He closes the case and turns toward the door, motioning for me to follow. We make slow, small steps as he leads me with his hand on my elbow.
“Each year, the chair of the department asks each member of the faculty to select a newly admitted student in whom they see the greatest potential. He hosts the faculty and their students for dinner at his house. If you’d consider being my guest for the dinner, I’d very much like to take you. I should warn you, the faculty who attend see the students there as open game. We all vie over the best of the best to recruit them as advisees.”
I feel the pit of my stomach reverse polarity. This is too good to be true. Here I’ve been worried sick about who I might be able to win as my advisor since receiving my admission letter last spring, and now they’ll compete for me ?
We pause at the door as Prof. Harrison turns to me. “So, are you interested?”
“Interested?” I blurt out, rolling up on my toes. “I’d be honored. When?”
“This Friday night, six p.m. As a formality, I have to submit your name to the chair’s secretary for his approval, but that should be nothing. Once you’re approved, she’ll send you an email with the directions. Or … I hesitate to say, but I can come pick you up. I know some students are uncomfortable with it.”
I search my memory for a second. At first, I can’t think of a reason to say no to the offer, but then remember the feeling of riding with friends to parties and having to wait on them getting too bored or rejected too many times to leave. While I doubt I’ll find the occasion boring or that Prof. Harrison will be roaming the party trying to pick up other students, I still have acquired a distaste for depending on others for transportation where I can avoid it.
“I’ll plan on meeting you there,” I say decidedly.
“Excellent.” Prof. Harrison nods and closes the classroom door behind us. “However, don’t think just because the other faculty may get a chance to know of your existence that means I’ll let one of them get you without a fight.”
(16 x 1)/2
The roar of a motorcycle takes me by surprise. I’ve just slipped on my purple heels when I rush out on to the screen porch to inspect. Looking into the front
I’m still unsure if he’s actually complimenting me or just stuffing more powder down the barrel before taking aim. “I realized after reviewing the problem that I couldn’t assume all the values. I hope you’re not upset.”
“Upset? I’m congratulating you on being right by having the courage not to be wrong, Miss Lewis.” He looks off in the distance, as if pulling out an old box from his memories. “He who knows best knows when he knows not, or something like that. I shouldn’t be surprised, I guess. I understand that at Colorado you worked under Matthias Gnomon.”
In a flash, I feel my hackles raise. “How did you know about Matthias?”
“Be … cause … it’s in … your file?” Prof. Harrison’s words stumble from his lips, and all at once I feel idiotic for lashing out. “You did study with him, right? Your file said he signed off on your undergraduate thesis.”
“He did.” My shoulders relax as I do my best to seem suddenly nonchalant. Prof. Harrison appears wary at my outburst, so I change the subject. “Can I take my paper with me now?”
“Not yet. I just wanted to show you the mark. There’s only one or two students each year who get a perfect score on this assignment. I use it specifically as a sieve of sorts.”
“To filter out which students?” I ask.
My eyes follow his hand as he shoves the pile of papers back in his briefcase, and I spot a small wrench set and a sewing kit inside. I smother a smile, knowing I shouldn’t judge a professor who has a taste for stitching or random tools. He closes the case and turns toward the door, motioning for me to follow. We make slow, small steps as he leads me with his hand on my elbow.
“Each year, the chair of the department asks each member of the faculty to select a newly admitted student in whom they see the greatest potential. He hosts the faculty and their students for dinner at his house. If you’d consider being my guest for the dinner, I’d very much like to take you. I should warn you, the faculty who attend see the students there as open game. We all vie over the best of the best to recruit them as advisees.”
I feel the pit of my stomach reverse polarity. This is too good to be true. Here I’ve been worried sick about who I might be able to win as my advisor since receiving my admission letter last spring, and now they’ll compete for me ?
We pause at the door as Prof. Harrison turns to me. “So, are you interested?”
“Interested?” I blurt out, rolling up on my toes. “I’d be honored. When?”
“This Friday night, six p.m. As a formality, I have to submit your name to the chair’s secretary for his approval, but that should be nothing. Once you’re approved, she’ll send you an email with the directions. Or … I hesitate to say, but I can come pick you up. I know some students are uncomfortable with it.”
I search my memory for a second. At first, I can’t think of a reason to say no to the offer, but then remember the feeling of riding with friends to parties and having to wait on them getting too bored or rejected too many times to leave. While I doubt I’ll find the occasion boring or that Prof. Harrison will be roaming the party trying to pick up other students, I still have acquired a distaste for depending on others for transportation where I can avoid it.
“I’ll plan on meeting you there,” I say decidedly.
“Excellent.” Prof. Harrison nods and closes the classroom door behind us. “However, don’t think just because the other faculty may get a chance to know of your existence that means I’ll let one of them get you without a fight.”
(16 x 1)/2
The roar of a motorcycle takes me by surprise. I’ve just slipped on my purple heels when I rush out on to the screen porch to inspect. Looking into the front
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