When he got back to the office, Katie was there working on some files atop the computer on her desk, putting on neat labels and arranging the material in them in reverse chronological or alphabetical order, depending on contents, so that material on files, some of which were two inches thick, could be more easily accessed. She was wearing another business suit, a pinstriped navy-blue wool and silk blend with a skirt and blazer over a pale blue silk blouse and the usual three-inch heels. She was cute as a button and as professional and efficient a secretary as he had even seen.

“Hey Katie,” he called to her as he walked through the door.

“Hey boss. Heard you had a good day today.” She said, giving him a sheepish grin.

“Yeah, the lab is approved, the program proposal has gone out and I’m both relieved and happy.”

“Not that she said with a dismissive wave of the hand and a shake of the head that made her thick, wavy hair dance around her shoulders. That’s no surprise,” she said. “I’m talking about your performance in Ms. Hunter’s class.”

“Huh?” he said. “How did you hear . . .”

“Oh, word travels fast around here. You made some fans today.”

“If you mean Ms. Hunter, actually she’s coming sometime after 4:00 p.m. and I’ll need you to step out when she comes as I have to discuss her evaluation with her.”

“No, not Ms. Hunter. I mean a couple of the students in her class. Two women, to be precise.”

“Huh?” Dan said again.

“Yeah, you’ve two women pretty excited about you and a third also showing interest, though she’s not in the class.”

“What are you talking about,” he said, wondering if she was teasing him again. She seemed to enjoy doing that.

“Well, it’s like this,” she said with exaggerated emphasis while making a strange face at him. There are two girls in the class that won’t stop talking about you. How wonderful you are and what a good teacher you are and how nice you look.” She was obviously enjoying his obvious distress enormously, laying it on thick as honey foolishly stored in the fridge.

“Do you want to know their names?” she asked, looking at him with big innocent eyes and a Cheshire cat smile. “I can get you their numbers, too if you want.”

“No!” He said. “How do you know this anyway?”

“Well, it’s like this. I have a good friend who is in the AOS track that started last month. She’s the third young lady I mentioned. She is friends with one of the two girls in the class, and they were talking about you at lunch most enthusiastically. I was with them in one of the empty classrooms where they ate lunch—I often join them before punching in when I get here extra early to spend time with my friend, Christine. She noticed you on your first day when you first walked through the hall at lunch time. I was with her. She is a gorgeous blonde, 20, blue eyed, a figure to die for, smart, lovely personality—the complete package.” She was teasing him now openly, but he still blushed—not because of the teasing but because he knew exactly who she was referring to—the beautiful young woman he had noticed on his first day sitting next to Katie eating a sandwich who had followed him with her eyes as he walked past the entire length of her classroom—and whom he also gave a lingering look because of her extraordinary beauty and grace. He wondered now whether both the girl and Katie had noticed him looking at her as he passed by.

“Well, like I was saying,” she continued coyly still speaking in an emphatic voice as though telling a great secret, clearly having great fun at his expense. He did not know whether to laugh or strangle her, so he did and said nothing, merely continued turning a deeper shade of crimson. “You made such an impression that I think they’re debating which one should have your baby first. It could come to blows.”

“Not funny, Katie,” he said trying not to look at her and walking toward her desk to boot up the computer—more to get away from her than out of any great desire to write up Ms. Hunter’s evaluation, for which he would have difficulty finding the words. He booted the computer and pulled up a blank form he had developed the previous week for use in evaluating his faculty. He did not like the one Harold had given him. The form included a rating of ten different items with a number from 1-4 on separate columns he could circle or highlight—1 Excellent, 2 Good, 3. Fair and 4 Needs improvement. He had also left room for a narrative statement summarizing the evaluation in terms of strengths and weaknesses. The ten criteria ranged from “Overall preparedness” to “Rapport with the class” and on each he underlined “Needs improvement,” thinking to himself that he should put a fifth column with “Unbelievably shitty” and award her that most accurate of ratings.

“I’m not trying to be funny, boss. You really made some impression. Expect to have each of them finding some reason to knock on your door often in the coming days and weeks.”

“Cut it out, Katie. I’m trying to work here,” Dan retorted a bit crankily not for her ribbing him but for his embarrassment at the prospect that she knew that he had been looking at her friend his first day too. That was not like him, either, which not only embarrassed him but made him angry at himself. He thought of Linda and his annoyance grew, as Katie continued to good-naturedly needle him as he tried not to hear her. Fortunately, he had good powers of concentration, so he soon tuned her out and immersed himself in writing the two-paragraph evaluation which basically highlighted what needed to be changed and why—a list that pretty much included everything.

Ten minutes later he was done and printed the two-page evaluation. Katie was blissfully quiet, working on her filing cabinet either getting the hint that he really did not want to hear it or perhaps feeling bad about needling him mercilessly, not realizing the real reason for his distress—or so he fervently hoped.

It was 4:00 p.m. when he finished, and he had nothing to do but wait for Ms. Hunter to show up.

“Do you want me to leave now,” Katie asked looking at him.

“No, not until Ms. Hunter arrives. And she may not get here until who knows when. I’ll have to have these meetings with the instructors for a while, but I’ll try to do them before you get here or after you leave whenever their schedules allow it. It all depends on when they have a free hour, though.”

“I understand,” Katie, said in a low voice and very serious. “Are you mad at me?” she added, looking at him with her big brown eyes. “I’m sorry if I made you feel bad. I was just teasing. It’s not appropriate. I didn’t mean anything by it. I thought you’d find it funny,” she continued almost as if she were about to cry. That, of course, made him feel even worse for a completely different reason, and he thought he had probably overreacted. He knew she had just been gently teasing him not out of meanness or malice or to get a rise out of him, but because she had grown comfortable with him in the very short time they had been working together, just as he had with her. Realizing that made him angry again at himself. He had not been angry with her—just embarrassed and a little ashamed of himself for no particularly good reason, he knew rationally. But emotions laughed in the face of reason. He knew that too, and he smiled warmly at the thought and at her.

“Don’t apologize, Katie. You did nothing wrong, and I am glad that you feel comfortable enough to tease me. It’s just been a very, very long and stressful week for me and I’m emotionally and physically spent. I’m the one who needs to apologize if I overreacted. I’m just tired and none too happy about having to meet Ms. Hunter to break the news to her that she’s a crappy teacher—something I know will come as a huge surprise to her, all obvious evidence to the contrary notwithstanding. And I believe she’s a good person to boot, else I’d have no problem just canning her today. I’m just not used to this. Please don’t feel bad and don’t apologize for being comfortable around me. It’s o.k. I don’t have any brothers or sisters, but if I did, I could not wish for a better little sister than you.”

“So little sister now, am I” She said and broke into a smile. “All right, that’s fine--for now. Just don’t pull my hair or chase away my boyfriends, all right?”

“Well, I’ll think about it. Maybe I can agree to one of those two conditions.”

“Which one,” she asked impishly.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” Dan said with a genuine smile. Then he added, “So they think I’m cute, huh?”

“The cat’s meow, boss.” She retorted deadpan. He resisted the urge to tousle her hair just as the door opened without a knock. Ms. Hunter, at last, nearly a half hour late and barging right in.

“I’ll go to reception for a while,” Katie said. “I didn’t pick up my paycheck today yet.”

“O.K.,” Dan said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Katie. Have a good night.”

“You too boss,” she said opening the door to leave. “And you too Ms. Hunter.”

“Night Cathy,” she said.

“Please sit down, Ms. Hunter.”

“Call me Vanessa,” she said, taking one of the two chairs across from Dan’s Desk.

“All right, Vanessa. Call me Dan,” he said sitting next to her on the second chair rather than on the high back chair behind his desk. He did not want a sense of distance between himself and his faculty—even when he had bad news to deliver. That is something he naturally practiced throughout the rest of his professional life as well. He would sit behind his desk when speaking with students, but never when speaking formally or informally with his faculty or staff as an administrator. He did not really care whether they noticed—he did not do it for that reason. He just thought it the right thing to do. It was the same reason that he never took the seat at the head of the table—not at PEMTI nor anywhere else he later served in administrative and executive positions. It was a very small thing, but it mattered to him.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“I have your evaluation. Before I go over it with you, can you tell me how you think the class went today?”

“I think you were great. The students did too—I could tell.”

“What I meant is, how do you think you did?”

“Oh, I guess o.k. I always give the class an assignment and guide them when they have questions.”

“Did you notice that about a third of your class was not doing as you asked, and a number of students were simply talking to each other, not paying attention and being an annoying distraction to those around them who were actually trying to get the work done?”

“They were all attentive when you were lecturing.”

“You’re missing the point, Vanessa. It is your class and it’s you they need to pay attention to, not me.”

“But you were lecturing . . .”

“Yes, and why is that?”

“Because you knew things I did not, and you wanted to answer the student’s question more fully.”

“Yes, that’s part of it, but the better question is why did you not have a better answer when the material is covered in the book? I know because I’ve been reviewing the textbooks in the classes of the faculty members I need to evaluate.”

“But all you said is not from the book,” she objected.

“You’re right. And you don’t have to know everything about the subject you teach, but for Pete’s sake, you at least have to know what’s in the book. Why didn’t you?”

“I’m a little behind on my lesson plans.”

“Yeah, that’s another issue that you need to address immediately. But haven’t you taught this course before—at least three times that I know of?”

“Yes,” Vanessa replied, looking away from him. At least she was not being defensive or denying the obvious failings yet. That was a good sign. Maybe there was hope for her. “I am just not very comfortable with the PC yet. I know the Apple IIe better.”

“But the course includes a simple introduction to DOS. I could understand if you decided to cover disk operating systems generically—I could accept that, though I’d prefer you teach the updated material you have access to in the textbook so as not to confuse students if nothing else. And you should know that D-O-S is pronounced ‘dohs,’ not by its individual initials.”

“I did not know that. Nobody ever told me,” she said a bit flustered but still not defensive which he appreciated and decided to take a different tack—making her feel bad would accomplish nothing.

“All right, Vanessa. I just need you to try harder, and I also need you to complete your lesson plans. I’ll be in trouble if State Ed decides to drop by unannounced for an audit, and you would definitely be fired if that happens—me too, probably. So please do us both a favor and work on those and submit them all by Friday at the latest. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Dean Amor.”

“It’s Dan, remember? Now to the actual evaluation. I have two copies here. Please read and sign yours. Note that there is a space at the bottom for you to make comments and you can continue on the back side of the page if you’d like to challenge or disagree with anything I write. Basically, you need to work on every area I evaluated based on today’s observation. Some simple observations are that you cannot just give students an assignment and read a magazine while they work. That is not teaching. And this is not a self-paced course that students can learn on their own. They need guidance. They’re hungry for it. I think you saw that today. You also need to get to class on time and show some enthusiasm—enthusiasm is catching as are lethargy and detachment.”

“You’re a great teacher, Dan. I’m not that confident.”

“First off, I have very little experience teaching—one semester in college as part of an honors seminar. I am not trained as a teacher—you are with your business education degree. I love to be in front of a classroom—I knew that in college already. But I’m nothing special. If students react to me as they did today it’s because they can see that I care about them, that I know what I’m talking about--even off the cuff and unprepared as was the case today. I did not do a great job today by any stretch of the imagination. They simply connected with what I was saying because I was enthusiastic and tried hard to make the material accessible to them—to relate unfamiliar things to things they know and understand--and they picked up on that. I made them comfortable enough to ask questions, and I answered every question—even if I had to say at least once that I did not know the answer. That’s 80 percent of the battle. Honesty also gets you a lot of points, and so does caring. Reading a magazine and not teaching simply puts up a wall that gets thicker and harder to break through with each passing day that you allow it to remain up.”

Vanessa listened intently, eyes starting to get glassy, but said nothing.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Vanessa? Are you under some type of stress at home, or illness? It’s o.k. to tell me. I will work with you if I can. Or is it the course itself?”

“I just feel overwhelmed. I have taken computer courses as part of my business education degree, but I’m not particularly good at or interested in the subject, and it keeps changing. I just always had to teach it here.”

“What do you prefer teaching?”

“I’d rather teach business math or English instead of computer processing courses. I also like teaching typing.”

“Do you know off hand if any of the faculty like teaching computer processing who are currently teaching courses you like? I’ve done the best I can with the schedule based on what everyone has taught over the past three years. I assumed you teach what you prefer to teach. You did not say anything last Friday or I would have asked your colleagues during our meeting if anyone would be willing to switch.”

“I don’t like making waves,” Vanessa said, looking down at her hands.

“Stating a preference is not making waves, Vanessa. I want you to teach not just what you can teach, but what you are good at and ideally what you enjoy. And I have no information as to that, unfortunately. It’s one of the things I’m trying to change. I don’t have time to try to contact everyone myself as to a possible switch, and I wouldn’t want to cause you problems with your colleagues either as I don’t know the relationship you have with them. Change after several class meetings is unfair to the students too. But you know your friends and colleagues here. If you can get one of them to take on your class or classes and you take theirs, I am willing to accommodate you. I’ll give you until Wednesday to try to find someone to switch with. Understand that it has to be someone qualified to teach the class. I, for example, for all of my knowledge about computers could not teach the class here if I wanted to if I were an instructor. Ironically, I could teach it at the college level with no problem as long as I has the knowledge because their rules differ—they have much greater flexibility in having faculty teach outside of their areas of expertise in terms of degrees. Not so for us. I’ll let you explore that option if you like. But either way, I expect a lot better in all of your classes going forward or I won’t be able to retain you.”

“I understand,” she said, still looking at her hands.

“I will evaluate your class again in another month or so to see what has changed. And I may evaluate more than one class. I will do it to help you if I can, Vanessa, not to hurt you or to build a case for dismissing you. Please understand that. I could fire you today based just on my evaluation and on the missing lesson plans. Or even without them. I want to help keep you, not get rid of you. Please know that.”

“I believe you,” she said, finally looking him in the eyes again.

Please read what I wrote carefully and feel free to disagree or write anything you like if what I wrote seems inaccurate or unfair. After you do that, please sign the evaluation. You’ll note I already signed my part of it. Take your time. Meantime, I’m going to sit at Katie’s desk and work on another evaluation,” he lied just to give her a little privacy as she read the evaluation and wrote her response. He then moved to Katie’s desk and sat there looking at the screen for a while as Vanessa read her evaluation. Two minutes later, she rose and walked to give him the signed evaluation. On her “comments” section she had simply written two words. “I’m sorry.”

He asked her to also sign and write the same comments on the second copy that he had also previously signed, and gave her a dated copy, keeping one for her file.

“I have faith in you, Vanessa. Please believe that.” She nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

Dan grabbed the evaluation form from his desk and walked to the filing cabinet to file it. He noticed the terrific job Katie had done rearranging the files, starting with labels on the drawers themselves. The second drawer from the top was labeled “Lesson Plans and Faculty Evaluations.” The lesson plans were filed alphabetically by course in large folders with files for every current faculty member teaching in each course. The folders themselves were further subdivided into each program separated by oak tags of different colors inside of otherwise empty hanging folder jackets so that he could easily find every class taught in every program currently offered. And there was a further division with slightly larger oak tag cutouts for years starting with 1985—two years before Dan had started at PEMTI. Katie had been busy and very productive when he was otherwise occupied. He found Ms. Hunter’s folder under the “Current Faculty” divider and placed her evaluation inside. All labels were neatly hand written, and the outside drawer labels and inside dividers were computer printed and carefully taped so as to be not only very neat, but also easily visible. Just as he closed the drawer and was thinking he really needed to compliment Katie on the job she had done, she knocked and entered as if summoned.

I helped out with some correspondence for Mr. Lantz in the reception area and punched out at 5:00 p.m. But I got a beef with you,” she said, looking at him sideways. “I thought I told you I did not want to get paid for the time I volunteered last week. That was on me—you didn’t ask me to,” she said.

“And I thought I told you that I expected you to get paid when you worked late.”

“I didn’t do it for the money,” she complained, genuinely annoyed.

“Well, in that case you should be quite happy as you didn’t get much of it.”

“Does that mean that I have to run out at 5:00 o’clock if I’m in the middle of something that will only take me five minutes to finish?”

“No, and I won’t ask for you to get five minutes’ worth of extra pay, either. But this was two hours, and you were doing me a huge favor, even though I did not ask you to—more reason to make sure you are compensated from where I sit.”

“What if I want to hang around and just chat with you for a while some days, will you insist I leave or pay me to do that?”

“Again, no. If you want to stay and chat and it has nothing to do with work, I’m not going to ask that you get paid for that. I’d be very happy if you did that, actually, any time you want to. But if its work and you’re staying for a significant period of time, yes, I will insist you get paid—or at least try to get you the compensation you deserve. And if I can’t, then I will insist you leave when you’re supposed to—or at least stop working.”

“Says the guy who puts in 12 hours a day. Did you know your predecessor used to come in for half days all the time and take most Mondays off?” She asked, hands on her hips. And he docked the teachers if they were just one minute late, embarrassing them about it, or if they punched out a few minutes early?”

“I neither knew nor care to know what the last dean did—unless I’m doing less or a worse job, then I’d appreciate knowing that.”

“You’re impossible, she said.”

“Hey, I’m a Gallego from the North West of the most beautiful part of Spain. (Don’t tell that to my friends from the South or West, by the way, though it’s absolutely true.) I’m extremely pig headed--It’s a trait we learned from our Italian first cousins.” He said, smiling. She walked up to him and punched him hard on the arm, giving him the evil eye—then laughed.

“Go home, Katie. He said, rubbing his arm with a mock grimace of pain.”

“Fine. I’m not going to stand here and get insulted,” she replied turning around and heading towards the door. “I know when I’m not wanted.” She added, in mock anger spoiled by a giggle she could not suppress.

“By the way,” Dan said before she reached the door. “Thank you for the extra thought and care you put into the file cabinet reorganization. It is really terrific. Sorry I’ve been too busy to notice until just before you walked in.”

“No biggie,” she said, opening the door. I like organizing. When I’m all done, I’ll start over and change everything again.”

“Oh, so you’re one of those, huh?” he said, smiling.

“You have no idea mister.”

“I guess I don’t,” he said to the door after she had closed it behind her.

With Katie gone, he decided to do one more round of both floors before returning to his office, closing the blinds and concentrating on populating the spreadsheet he had created with the available information in his files about his faculty. By 9:00 p.m., he left the office after one final round, with everything in order. Another long, exhausting but fruitful day. He just wanted to get home, grab a bite of whatever he could find in the fridge, and go to bed. Another day he would not see Linda. He was simply too tired; but he’d call her before retiring, and his parents too. They would understand that he was busy, and he knew this pace would not last long.