My Student 2

Class was over. All of the students (at least all that had bothered to show up on the day after the test) rushed out quickly. Dr. Vincent Prins knew that Math 090 was not a popular course, and the people who liked math never ended up in this class. But he strongly felt that introductory courses, even remedial ones, were really important. Let others glory in their upper level math whizzes; he gloried in every student who passed the course.

On four of the tests, he had written "Please stay after class long enough to make an appointment." After the rush passed, only one student remained. She approached him with the look of a dog that had just made a mess on the carpet, and was very, very, sorry.

What was her name again? Oh, yes. "Miss Hall, thank you for staying after. I really appreciate it. I hope that means you are willing to put in some effort to bring your understanding up to a higher level." She looked up at him, like she was still looking for the rolled up newspaper.

"Well, sir, you asked me to stay. And I know I didn't do so well. I just, don't like math. It's not you, I just don't get it."

"I asked you to stay, Miss Hall, and I'm glad you did. I asked four students to make an appointment; how many other students do you see?"

"Um, none, sir."

"So what fraction of the students I asked to make an appointment showed up?"

"Um, one fourth?"

"And if ONE other student had had your courage and stayed to face the terrible ogre with you, what fraction of the students I asked to make an appointment would have showed up?"

She got a panicked look. "Would that be two fourths, or would it be one half?"

"Thank you Miss Hall. That is correct. Two out of 4 is two fours, or in proper form, one half. But on your quiz, you said that one half plus one third is two fifths. And you made some other mistakes that show you really don't understand fractions very well. Do you have another class right now, Miss Hall?"

"No, sir. This is my last class of the day." She paused. "It's OK if you want to call me Bernadette. Or, my friends call me Bernie."

"By coincidence, it is also my last class of the day. OK, Bernie, here's my offer. Every day, after class, unless there is an emergency of some kind, you, and any other students who wish, may follow me to my office, and I will go over material with you. You will not leave, nor will I, until you have mastered the topic of the day. Our first few topics will deal with fractions. You need to learn the material for this class, to even be able to shop at the grocery store. You may not like it, but it is very fundamental. You need to know it. You may hate me by the end of the semester, but if you keep at it, and keep coming, you WILL learn the material."

"You'd do that for me, professor? Really?" She looked up at him, with hope and wonder in her eyes. She was smiling. It was the first time he had seen her smile. It was a very nice smile. She was a few pounds heavier than a doctor would recommend, but she was kind of cute.

"Of course," he said gently. "It's all part of the service. Now imagine four people want to buy a pizza, but two of them are on a diet..." She followed him to his office, and never missed a day the whole semester.

"Welcome to Math 95. Most of you are here by placement, some of you were in Math 90 with me last semester." Bernie was sitting in the front row, smiling at him. She still hated math, but she had decided he was her ally in learning how to handle the Math Monster. "We'll do a really quick review, but our goal is to finish learning the basic math skills you need in society by the end of the semester. And please feel free to ask my advice on what math course you should take to fulfill your general education requirement in math."

"Professor?" asked a young lady in the back. "The requirement in my major is to take one math class. This counts, right?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm afraid the Gen Ed requirement must be a math course numbered above 120. This course is to prepare those of you who need help before taking a core math skills course."

"But... that's not fair. You're making me take an extra course that doesn't count towards graduation."

He shrugged. "I'm not making you do anything. I'm teaching a class. You need to know certain things to be able to succeed. The concept is called 'prerequisite'. If you think you don't need this class, you may retake the placement test. This course counts towards graduation indirectly—if you don't know the material, you won't be able to even take the course that is required."

"But, it's just not fair! I shouldn't—"

"Excuse me, but I'm not here to discuss fairness. I'm here to help you succeed. We can chat more in office hours if you wish, but we need to look ahead at what we will be doing this semester now."

Bernie turned around. "Crystal, he's OK. He really helped me a lot. He's pretty cool. Just do it, OK?"

Crystal subsided with mumbles under her breath, and class began.

After class, Bernie actually beat him back to his office, and was waiting for him when he arrived. "Bernie, good to see you again," he said, "but I find it hard to believe you have questions on the first day."

"Well, professor, I have questions, but they aren't math questions." She took a deep breath. "I'm trying to decide if I should withdraw from the whole semester."

He waved at the chair. "Have a seat. Tell me what's happening."

"My mother is dying. She's on dialysis, and not high enough on the list for a transplant. And. Frankly, her health isn't so good; she might not even survive a transplant. I'm thinking I should drop out to take care of her. The doctors only give her a couple of months to live."

"Have you talked to your mother about this?" he asked gently. "What you do won't make much difference in how long she lives, but missing a semester will really throw you off track. There are courses in your major that are every other year courses. It isn't just one more semester."

"My Mom doesn't want me to drop. But... how can I go off to class every day, when my Mom is dying?"

"I know this is hard for you. And it's even harder, because you don't have a father, and you're an only child. But, your Mom wouldn't want you to blow off your education for her, and I think you know that."

Bernie sniffed. "That's kind of what she said."

"Trust me. Most parents would rather die than hurt their children's chance at a good life. It's really your decision; but I have a suggestion."

"What?"

He shrugged. "Drop down to part time, for this one semester. Commute from home. Only take the classes that are needed to keep you on track, like the every other year major courses. And, oh yes, the Experimental Psychology class taught next year, has a prerequisite of statistics, and this class is a prerequisite for statistics. So I'm afraid you're stuck with me anyway."

"I'd like to stay in your class, but math is so HARD for me. I know I'm going to be upset a lot, and I can't do math when I'm upset."

"Bernie," he said gently. "Look at me." There were tears running down her cheeks. "Do you trust me?" She nodded. "I'll help you. Extra meetings, like we did last semester. If you miss because of your mother, I'll let you make it up. But you can't graduate on time if you don't get credit for this class this semester. You really should have taken this class as a freshman; you let your fear of math talk you into delaying it as long as possible. You need to take a couple of classes, including mine. You know your Mom doesn't want you to sacrifice your career just because she's dying."

"But she's my Mom!"

"And she loves you, and she'll be happier knowing you are doing what you need to live your life. Ask her. She's the kind of Mom who would give her life to save you if she could; don't throw away your career just because she's dying. I'll help any way I can."

"Any way?" she asked. He nodded. "It would help," she said, "if I could have a hug right now." He stood up and held out his arms. She grabbed him tight, put her head on his shoulder, and just wept. He stood there, rubbing her back, and holding her. He tried not to think about how pretty she was. He just wanted to be there for her.

"Hug?" He stood up and turned, knowing Bernie would be rushing into his arms. She was really upset by her mother's terminal condition; she always stopped by to hug him after class, and often at other times. She never referred to it in class, for which he was grateful. He didn't want to explain to the Dean why one of his students always wanted hugs. He didn't want to admit, even to himself, how her hugs made him feel.

"Tears again? What's happening, Bernie?"

"Mom can't eat any solid food anymore, and she's refusing a feeding tube. She won't be able to get what she needs through a straw. She'll just starve, and then maybe dehydrate, and..."

She was hugging him so tightly that he was talking to the back of her head. "It would be worse, if she had a feeding tube. My father lasted 6 extra months because of a feeding tube, and he was miserable the whole time. I know it's hard, but your Mom thought it through in advance, and this is the way it has to be."

"I don't know what I'm going to DO when she's gone," she told his shoulder. "After the medical bills, I don't even know if there will be enough for me to finish college."

"Worry about that later. We'll work something out."

"I'm only in three classes, and I'm having a hard time keeping up. But I have to have all three."

"If you have to choose," he said gently, "do your other classes first. I can catch you up later. The situation with your Mom would qualify you for an incomplete if you need it."

She pulled back, and looked at him through teary eyes. "You'd really let me blow off your class to do my other classes?"

He nodded. "If that's what you need to do."

"Why are you so nice to me?"

"I'm nice to all my students, when I'm not being the mean ogre that Crystal keeps running into."

That was worth a giggle on her part. "You're no ogre. You're a pussycat. And I love you." And before she even knew she was going to do it, she pulled him to her for a deep kiss. And he kissed her back.

"My Mom died last night."

He put his arms around her. It felt good to hold her in his arms. "Why are you here? Everyone would understand if you took a day off."

She sighed. "There's more."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that. What else?"

"Mom named a bank as the executor. She didn't want me to have to deal with things. The problem is, the executor decided that there was not enough money, and he had to sell the house right away." She looked him right in the eye. "I have one week after the end of finals to empty the house, and I'm way behind on homework as it is. I'm so close to finishing the semester, but I'm just... losing it."

He held her some more, while she cried.

"OK, Vincent, that's the last load. Thanks for the dinner, but you owe us one." The guys in the truck drove off.

"It's really generous of you," Bernie said, "to lend me the money for a storage locker, and I'm so happy your friends were willing to move the stuff. That means I don't have to sort through Mom's stuff until this summer. But... I don't have a place to LIVE. I don't have any MONEY to pay rent. I don't think I'm supposed to live in the storage locker, but I'll probably have to sleep there tonight. I'm sure I can't live in my car. I need a bathroom, at least. What can I do?"

She was tired of being brave in front of his friends. She went to him for reassurance. He held her tight, stroked her hair, and kissed her cheek. "I know where you can stay until you figure out what you want to do. It's not perfect, but the price is right."

"Tell me about it. I'm desperate." She was holding on so tight, he couldn't have gotten away if he had tried. But he had no desire to get away from this lovely woman.

"It's in a basement. Someone lives upstairs. There's a separate entrance in the back of the house, a bed room, a bath room, and a main room. There's a laundry room, but you have to share with the person upstairs. There's a kitchen upstairs you can share, or you can make a little kitchenette using the utility sink, and have your own space."

"How much is it?"

"Well, it's free, at least for the summer."

"So what's wrong with it? Nobody rents out rooms for free."

"Well, the basement really isn't in use, so it's not much extra cost. But you have to live at the same address as the person upstairs, who is a guy. He's somewhat of a loner; the academic type."

"So I can live for free if I live with a guy? You're not suggesting..."

"No, the guy won't make you do anything that way you don't want to do. He just wants to help you out."

She looked at him suspiciously. "How does this guy even know about me? Do I know him?"

He looked into her eyes. "Well, that's the thing. I didn't even want to suggest it, knowing how bad it would look, you living at the same address as a guy. And he wouldn't want people to know he had a tenant, so you'd have to be careful who you gave the address to. But, you don't have many options right now. So, if you want, it's available."

"Who's the guy?"

"Um, the guy is me. I can lose my job if people jump to the wrong conclusion, but I can't just let you be homeless. So what I'm building up to is, if you want, you can stay with me until you find a better option."

She gasped. "Are you seriously asking me to live with you?" He nodded. She pulled him close for a kiss. "I accept. I'll get a post office box. And I won't tell anyone where I'm staying, because I don't want you to lose your job."

She thought for a minute. "It's not just because I have nowhere else to go, or because the rent is free." She blushed. "I kind of like the idea of living with you." And she gave him another kiss.

His car was already in the driveway, in front of the one car garage. She parked in the carport, as directed. "Here's your key," he said. "It opens the back door, which goes into the walk out basement. If the garage is open, you can go through the kitchen. Let me show you around."

The kitchen was a kitchen; wooden table, chairs, microwave, stove, dishwasher, cabinets. It was remarkably clean, for a man living by himself.

"These stairs go down to the basement."

It was a basement, but it didn't smell musty, it had tile on the floor, and the walls were concrete, but painted white. There was a couch, entertainment center, two comfy chairs, a card table and four folding chairs. She suspected the card table and folding chairs were brand new. "It looks nice, for a basement," she said.

The bedroom was equipped like a dorm room. There was a bed, a chair, a desk, a dresser, and a bookcase. Since it was a walkout basement, there was a window. She looked at it. "All the comforts of dorm." He smiled.

Past a doorway, there was an obvious storage area to the left, and past a washer and dryer, there was an open door. She went to look. It was a new looking bathroom, with tile, walk in shower, everything needed. "This is a pretty big basement. How come your house is so big when you live by yourself?"

He sighed. "When I accepted this job, I was engaged to be married. I wanted a house big enough to raise a family in. At the last minute, she cancelled the engagement; she said she didn't want to live 'out in the sticks', so she moved in with her mother rather than get married and come with me."

"I think, in hindsight, that it would have been bad for us to get married, but it left me paying off a big mortgage and feeling lonely, roaming all around this big house by myself. I'm kind of glad to have the company."

"So, I'm nosy, you haven't had a girlfriend since?"

He reached out and put his hand alongside her cheek. "I have friends, and some of them are girls, but I haven't even discussed... romance with anyone, since then. I'm all alone."

"Not anymore," she whispered. "I'll keep you company, for as long as you want."

He looked at her. "That could end up being a long time. I won't hold you to that. Anyway, you can set up a kitchenette by the utility sink, or come up and use the kitchen. I do have to do laundry down here, so you have to put up with me invading your domain now and then."

"Can I come up and visit, now and then?"

He nodded. "Whenever you want, but please knock before entering any room upstairs other than the kitchen. I don't always... dress up."

"I'll let you get settled in. I'll be up for a while; you can come up and ask me anything, tonight."

She had not brought anything in from her car but her suitcase. She set it in her new room. It did not look like home. Maybe she should get some decorations?

Vincent was surprised when she came up the stairs, practically on his heels. She dutifully knocked before crossing into the living room. "I'm lonely," she said. "It's too quiet, down there."

"You said I could ask anything tonight. Can I start by asking for hugs?"

He nodded, and patted the seat beside him on the couch. As she crossed the room, he noticed that she had been losing weight. Perhaps that was effort, or perhaps it was the effect of stress, but she looked a lot more attractive than she had 10 months ago, when she had started her first class with him. She sat next to him, and slid an arm behind his back. He put his arms around her, and held her tight.

"You've been through a lot. You've had a tough time of it. I'm glad I've been able to help a little. We'll get you back on your feet."

She snuggled in closer. "What happens if someone finds out that you are, literally, living with one of your students?"

He shrugged. "I would lose my job, unless I can convince a committee that I actually did nothing wrong." He looked her in the eye. "If someone is known to be living with one of their students, the assumption is they are engaging in 'moral turpitude'. No one has defined it, but 'moral turpitude' is sufficient grounds to fire a tenured professor."

"I don't think I've ever done 'moral turpitude' with anyone, she said thoughtfully. But I'm not sure, because they didn't discuss 'moral turpitude' in my health class."

She thought about it for a minute more. "If I want to do it, is it still 'moral turpitude'?"

"Um, I'm not sure, but between a professor and a student, they would probably think so."

"Too bad," she said, with an impish little smile. "I was going to ask you to show me how to do 'moral turpitude', but I don't want to get you fired."

They chatted, and held each other. The companionable silences got longer. Finally, she looked up at him. "There's one more thing I'd like to ask you tonight. In about 10 minutes, could you come tuck me in, and give me a good night kiss? It would help me sleep better tonight."

He went down in a few minutes, to find her under the covers, in a white, lacy nightgown. "How can I tuck you in, when you are already under the covers?"

She sighed. "It's so simple. Tuck your left arm under me. Tuck your right arm under me. Then give me my bedtime kiss."

He was obviously not fast enough. She tossed back the covers. "Take your shoes off, and lay down next to me." He noticed the nightgown was thinner than he at first thought. It was thin enough, that he was relatively sure she had nothing on under it. That was distracting.

He did what he was told. "Now, give me my bed time kiss." He gave her a little peck on the cheek.

Obviously, that was not sufficient. She made him practice over and over again, until he got it right. Then, once he got it right, he had to practice a few more times, to make sure he remembered how for tomorrow. He had never imagined tucking someone into bed could be so fun.

"Please," she then whispered, "Please just hold me for a few more minutes before you go."

She never once cooked a meal down in the basement. Within 48 hours, they were synchronizing their days together. She cooked most of the time; he did cleanup most of the time. When they went out, they maintained a physical separation, in case someone from the College saw them. When she worked on organizing her mother's affairs, he did his course preparation for the next year. They took long walks in the nature preserve together for exercise. They watched movies (with popcorn!) in the basement 'movie theater'. She really needed a friend to help her through her grieving; he was glad to have a friend of any sort, but especially one so caring, sensitive, and beautiful. He always made himself leave after the demanded good night kiss; she always invited him to stay longer.