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"And so," I said, concluding my speech, "we are very proud indeed to be at the forefront when it comes to helping the next generation of STEM talent - that's all of you here today. To this end, our Institute is pleased to have selected your school as one of 20 across the country to receive our $100,000 Youth Development Grant. We want to recognize the efforts of all your dedicated teachers to prepare you for educational and career success in a rapidly changing global environment."
The faces before me - all female - shone with rapt attention, or so I fancied. Here were 50 of the state's best and brightest young students who would go on very soon to do degrees in life sciences, civil engineering, computer programming, conservation biology, and much more besides. I liked to think that my job involved helping them in no small way.
Well, I had spouted enough cliches for now, I thought. "So without further ado," I said with a smile, "let me officially present this symbolic cheque to your teacher representative, Mrs... Nope, sorry, I'm sorry about that, Ms. Judith Harrell!" I had misread the somewhat squiggly handwriting on the card I'd been given.
The teacher in question stepped up onto the podium, beaming, as the students applauded. She flashed me a broad smile, and with her eyes managed to convey that she hadn't been offended by my error. Or so I imagined.
We shook hands, and she had a surprisingly firm grip, which I appreciated. Perhaps I'm a bit of a traditionalist, but whether it's a man or woman I was shaking hands with, I prefer not to feel as though I was shaking a limp rag in my hand.
Afterwards, as we were all milling around at the buffet table, she came up to me and we struck up a conversation.
"Dr. Jay Johnson? I just want to say again how much we all appreciate what your Institute is doing for us, especially for the girls."
"It's very much our pleasure, Ms. Harrell, and I'm very sorry about my mistake earlier..."
She laughed, very pleasantly I thought - openly, honestly, without artifice. "Oh, don't worry about that, Dr. Johnson. Please, call me Judith."
"Very gracious of you, Judith. And please... call me Jay."
We shook hands again, and once more I noticed she had a very firm grip... I had to mentally stop myself from thinking "for a woman". All of a sudden I found myself wondering what her physique looked like, underneath that formal blazer of hers. She was a very handsome woman, I thought: high-cut auburn hair and a firm jawline. She looked a little over 40, with only a hint of crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, probably from smiling.
But she was saying something. "This grant is especially meaningful to our school, as you may know. Many of our students who will benefit come from some of the most underrepresented groups. I think the Institute is sending a good, strong signal here to the country at large. Or we hope, anyway," she laughed again, "that people are taking some notice at least! But I believe they are."
"I do believe so as well, Judith. I know at the very least my immediate superior in the Institute, a certain Dr. Ashwani Rai, believes so as well. She has been tremendously supportive of this scheme. I think we can all make a difference in our own ways here, and I do think the biggest difference," I told her, looking her in the eye, "is made by you classroom practitioners, on the ground so to speak. I don't think I was ever cut out for pedagogy, so I suppose that's why I went into the research side of things. But I have the greatest admiration for teachers like you."
I hoped that I wasn't coming across as condescending or patronizing, but she apparently didn't think so - I came away with a coffee date the next week. It turned out that we lived just about an hour away from each other, so it was not that difficult to find a good meeting place. And so it was that one week afterwards Judith and I were sitting in a café, while I was going on in my rambling way - very tedious no doubt - about my line of work.
"The thing that a lot of people don't realize," I was saying, "when they talk about promoting STEM, is that it isn't just a matter of getting the pipeline stuffed with students! It isn't a flat pipeline, you see, but a vertical one. All too many students fail to actually get to the top of it - it requires consistent, patient application of effort. That's a key reason why we're seeing such dropout rates along the way. We need more disciplined mentoring..."
If she was bored, she was doing a great job of hiding it, that's all I can say.
Then out of the corner of my eye, I noticed one of the waitresses was having a problem - the trolley she was pushing had gotten wedged in the doorway, somehow. The door wasn't fully open. She was yanking hard, in a way that could have caused her some back injury, but the trolley wasn't budging.
"Sorry, excuse me for a bit, Judith... Here, young lady, please, allow me..."
The waitress looked a bit dubious and gave me a skeptical sidelong glance, but stood aside.
I was wearing work clothes and shoes, but this wasn't anything I couldn't handle. After I'd braced myself properly and gotten a good grip, I managed to dislodge the trolley with a single jerk, and nary a twinge anywhere in my body.
"Gee, thanks!" the waitress gushed. I smiled, gave a mock bow, and returned to my table.
Judith was smiling at me, with her head tilted sideways. "That was pretty impressive."
"You mean, 'for an old guy', don't you?" I quipped as I sat down opposite her.
"No, I mean it. You've got good technique. I mean, you know how to move. Do you go to the gym much?"
Do I! I thought.
"Well," I said with a chuckle, "I don't go out to a commercial gym as such. But I do lift, if you know what I mean. I've got a sort of home gym setup in my basement."
"Really! That's doubly impressive, then. I used to do a bit of powerlifting, you know. But that was many, many years ago, I'm afraid. In high school," she said, laughing self-deprecatingly.
"But that's amazing! I've never done anything like that. So you'd know much more about lifting than I do, then."
"Oh no, I'd hardly say that! Like I said, it was just for a while, in high school. I know the basics. How good technique translates to everyday life, that sort of thing. But I haven't spent much time in the gym since then."
She was wearing a simple work blouse, but I could see that she did have a good build - nicely broad shoulders that sloped down into firm fleshy upper arms. She looked like a natural lifter, and I told her as much.
"That's very nice of you to say. I suppose I've always been rather husky. Definitely no bikini model!"
"Well, it depends what you wear a bikini for!" I blurted out, and then my face reddened. "Um, I mean..."
But she didn't seem offended. She leaned in, her eyes twinkling. "What would I wear one for, pray tell?"
I gulped, unable to look away. "Well, really, I just meant... if it were worn for, say, a bodybuilding competition..."
"Bodybuilding!" She laughed. "What an interesting idea. I like the way you think, Jay. I'm not sure I've ever dieted that seriously though. They do that, don't they, bodybuilders I mean?"
"Well, sure... they need to do a lot of very disciplined things, to get enough definition to go up on stage, and then they can't really maintain that level of body fat for long..."
I stopped rambling then, because she was lightly tracing my upper arm with a finger. "Well, you would definitely know about all that, I think. Ever competed before?"
"What? Oh! No, no... I've never been one. I just know things from hearsay, and internet forums, and such."
