"Listen... Professors were students once. They have to know what they're doing. Think about it."
It was nine p.m. on a Tuesday night, and the library had started to clear out - meaning Georgia and Steph had stopped caring about how loud they were talking, or how deranged they might sound. Georgia was nodding in agreement to Steph's theory. A lone girl from two tables over looked up briefly, her face betraying a glimmer of agreement.
"Say more," Georgia encouraged.
Steph was getting worked up now, the ideas coming out in a blur of enthusiasm. She was joking, mostly, but there were gems of truth in it and they both knew it.
"Well every student I know finds at least one professor hot, and professors must have wanted to get their PhDs and MFAs and what-have-yous solely to be hotties. Like, they're passionate and smart, but they went for that advanced degree purely for the endorsement and clout."
"So true," Georgia agreed. "Like, you know they say they're an expert in their field as a pick-up line."
Steph raised her hands to the sky as if thanking some unseen god. "YES Georgia. You get what I'm saying. And if, on the off chance, they really just got it because they're a nerd... they have to realize that being a professor is the only chance they have at being hot. Because when they were students they must have had professor crushes that subconsciously steered them towards this path."
Georgia continued nodding. "Wholeheartedly agree."
Steph was on a roll. "So, like. I go to Nick's office hours. First off - why does he tell us to call him Nick? Because he wants to be a 'cool' professor? That's suspicious. He was wearing this like, wool sweater with little leather patches on the elbows? He had like a stack of papers on the table that he was actively grading and a cup of what was clearly black coffee, which I think was like... really unnecessarily stereotypical because I would have respected him even if he was drinking a frappucino.
I was asking him all these questions and we got talking on a topic he was clearly stoked on, and he was grinning, he lent me this book, and said he thought I'd like it, etc. Now, I'm NOT saying he was flirting. That's critical. Like, that's the issue. It was a totally innocent, professor-student conversation based on a shared passion about medicinal herbs in ancient Greece"
"Hot," Georgia laughed.
"But it's the cultural context, ya know? Nick has to know he's a hot, young professor with tenure and that I'm intimidated and desperate for his validation, and overanalyzing every single word he said. Like he has to know that as a student I'm automatically enamored - I want to be him, I want to be with him, I want him to give me validation - it all gets jumbled."
"But what do you want him to do? Not share educational information with you and ignore you all the time?"
"Obviously not! I'm like frothing at the mouth for this kind of educational experience. But, that said.... I don't have a crush on the professors who ignore me. I'm just saying that he has to know what he's doing, or the effect it's having, even if he's trying to be chill and totally normal."
"Yeah I hear you, like the very act of being a professor is suggestive."
"Exactly. I love that you get what I'm saying. Like, if you're going to be a professor you can't dress hot, be cool, and let us call you by your first name. Like, I need to be calling you Professor, you need to be old, and you have to wear clothes that look like you forgot to do your laundry because you were finishing up research - not dress like you're spending your exorbitant salary on clothes that can't go in the dryer."
They dissolved into laughter together, and Georgia lectured Steph on the importance of doing laundry correctly. Steph waved her off.
"It's not about me. It's about wool sweaters and peacoats and leather briefcase bags. It's about the principle of the thing. They need to be held accountable for the effect they're having."
Georgia thought of this conversation with Steph often. She almost always laughed when she talked about Willem, her bisexual European poetry professor who had once complimented her poem by saying it had a "lifelike whimsy"- whatever that meant.
Her experience in her college algebra class crept up differently. So differently, in fact, that she didn't realize what was happening until she was sucked in. Despite her typical queer read on everything in her life, she hadn't been thinking of women when she spoke with Steph. She'd been focused on the typical culprits: white men with PhDs, and midlife crises, and drinking problems, and the hots for younger women.
Professor Hall taught an entry level college algebra class with nearly 100 students crammed into a giant, abrasively illuminated lecture hall. She had two TAs to help her manage the desperately lost students just trying to meet the math requirement for their degree. She was quick and clear, and probably the best math teacher Georgia had ever had.
Professor Hall had been hired on the tenure-track the year prior - one of only two women in the male-dominated department. Her age was a mystery to her students. Dark, shiny hair without a single gray indicated she was on the younger side, but faint crows feet hinted that she was older than they might assume. She dressed nicely, always wearing a loose button up and slacks with black boots. Her long, straight hair usually fell loosely behind her back, but some days she wore it in a tight knot at the top of her head. Georgia occasionally got distracted by Hall's jewelry - an ever-changing array of rings, bracelets, and necklaces that glinted off the fluorescents.
Georgia hated math, had never found her groove in it, but Hall's class had been going smoothly until now. It was week 5, the midterm was scheduled for the following week, and Georgia was starting to panic. Something wasn't clicking in this chapter, and, for the first time, Georgia decided to go to office hours.
She planned to go near the end of the day on a Friday, when she knew that the TA Elliot would be there (since she found his counterpart Linda to be annoying and bad at her job). She almost decided not to go - it was Friday after all, and there had to be better things to do with her time. Though, ultimately, she decided it shouldn't take too long. Then, she could actually enjoy her weekend.
When she arrived in the math department there were no TAs to be found. She asked the front desk staff where the TAs were, and the desk attendant shrugged.
"Elliot called out, but Professor Hall said she would just help out anyone who came. People usually don't come."
