Well, I guess he’s not really asking then, is he?
Me
Sounds good
Zach
Also I have good news about the app. Tyson and I had a breakthrough today.
Me
That’s great. Can’t wait to hear.
I hate the hope that flutters in my chest at his words. You’d think I would have gotten used to this cycle over the last eight years, ever since we graduated high school: first the new business idea, then excitement over its potential, followed by months of “hard work” with his best friend Tyson, and finally frustration with the details until another shiny new idea pops up. Rinse and repeat.
Hamster sitting, succulent plant depot, envelope sealing services—you name any weird, obscure concept, and Zach has tried to make it into a business.
His latest endeavor is an app that will allow you to reserve a parking spot on the street. I’m skeptical, but did anyone ever think there’d be an app that allows you to pop a virtual bottle of champagne? I think not. So I play my role of supportive girlfriend, hoping—despite my instinctual reservations—that one day, one of his ideas will take off.
I set down my phone and say to Ellie, “All right, let’s get back to it.”
But Ellie flops her head dramatically onto the desk. “Professor Beaumont, you don’t understand.” She turns her head to look at me, her brown eyes wide. “Ineedto pass this class.”
I nod my head, sympathetic to her struggles. Her math skills have been lacking since the first day of the semester, and while we spent the first month of class reviewing algebra before tackling calculus, it still hasn’t been enough to catch her up.
The problem is, I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard those exact words.I need this class.Or even better,My future depends on passing this class.
I get it. When you’re twenty years old, timing is everything. You have to pass the class on the first try. You have to transfer to a university by this date. And any delay ruins your chances of a successful future.
But if I’ve learned anything in my twenty-seven years of life, it’s that sometimes things don’t happen when you expect, and that’s okay too.
“I understand,” I say to her, hoping my voice conveys how much I truly sympathize with her. “I know it’s really hard when you have to plan for your future.”
“So you get it!” She sits straight, a grin filling her face and lighting her features.
“But you have to understand that I have a job, too. And that job is to make sure my students can, you know,do calculusby the end of the semester.” I put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’re doing great, though. I think you can get there.”
“I’m not a math person. I can’t do it.”
“Ah, my favorite words.” Ryan’s voice sounds behind us, and an instant grin fills my face. I turn to see him standing outside my cubicle, leaning his elbow on the flimsy wall. His dark green Henley and blue jeans fit his frame just right. He gives me a huge smile and waves at Ellie, who looks like she’s about to melt in her seat.
But he doesn’t act like he notices her reaction. He’s probably used to it. If the student reviews on Rate My Professors are any indication, he gets this kind of stare from most of his female students.
Because how often do you get a math professor who’s a young surfer, incredibly brilliant, but also cracks jokes and makes math accessible? It would be like having Glen Powell give a lecture on trigonometric proofs. I’m shocked they actually learn math at all.
Ryan takes a step into my cubicle and gives Ellie a sympathetic expression. “I know you think you’re not a ‘math person,’” he says, making finger quotes. “But I don’t believe that’s a real thing. Anyone can succeed at math. You just need the right teacher.” He squeezes my shoulder. “And Professor Beaumont is one of the best.” He gives me a wink. “After me, of course.”
I roll my eyes and playfully shove his arm. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Seriously, though,” he says, turning his attention back to Ellie. “She’s fantastic. But you have to put in the effort, too. If you want it badly enough, you can make it happen.”
Ellie nods, wide-eyed at Ryan’s declaration and suddenly imbued with the desire to succeed. “You’re right. I can make it happen.”
“That’s the spirit.” Ryan checks his watch and grimaces. “Yikes. I’m a few minutes late for my class. Catch you ladies later!” He rushes to his office, and Ellie and I turn to watch as he riffles through a few papers.
“Do you even know what you’re supposed to teach today?” I ask him.
“Of course. It’s…uh…” He moves his finger down a page, then taps it. “Volumes of revolution using the shell method. No problem. I can teach that in my sleep.”
