And if you don’t shoot your shot, someone else is going to take it.
I square my shoulders and deliver the line I’ve been rehearsing all week. “I realize you probably get a lot of requests as the head of the department, but would you be willing to write a letter of recommendation for me to use when applying for jobs in the spring?”
As my advisor, she certainly knows me better than any of the other professors I’ve had.
She purses her lips and my stomach drops.
Dr. Barnes is actually going to say no. I knew it was a possibility, but I’d hoped—
“Keep up the good work, and if at the end of the semester I’m satisfied with your performance, I’ll consider writing you a letter of recommendation.”
It’s not a no.
But it’s not a yes either.
The woman obviously knows the power of her influence and she’s out here wielding it like the golden ticket it is.
She must sense my frustration because she adds, “You’re an exceptional student, Piper, and you’re going to be an exceptional teacher. In the meantime, it’s my job to prepare you for the reality of a real-world classroom because student teaching can make or break the start of a career.”
There’s a thick lump in my throat and I swallow past it as I nod at yet another reminder of my precarious position.
“When we send our students into the field, they’re representing Waverly University and all the students who came before, as well as those who will come after. Not everyone wants to talk about it, but responsibility is inherent to the profession.”
“I understand.” I can do this. I just have to stay the course and get out of my own head. “And I appreciate your consideration.”
The meeting wraps up and though I’m uneasy about Barnes’ parting words, I’m choosing to focus on the positive. I’m spending the spring semester in College Park and I’ve landed a plum student teaching gig.
For now, it’s enough.
My phone buzzes as I step into the hall and I dig it out of my bag to find another text from Brady. It’s a picture of a baby cow. Or, I guess technically, it’s a calf.
Who cares? It’s freaking adorable.
The calf is lying on a bed of hay and it has a rich, chocolate coat and big dark eyes that screamlove me.
My fingers fly over the keyboard as I type my reply.
Me: That is literally the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. I’m going to die of cuteness overload.
Three little dots appear on the screen and a message pops up.
Brady: Where are you? I’ll swing by and do a little mouth-to-mouth.
I snort-laugh. Did Brady just drop a terrible pickup line ironically?
I didn’t think he had it in him.
That’s what you get for underestimating him…again.
Me: I’ll have to take a raincheck. I’ve got class.
And a new incentive to ensure my grades remain top of the cohort.
Brady: I’m going to hold you to that. How was the meeting?
Me: Got my student teaching assignment. College Park School District!
Brady: Congratulations! Let me take you out to celebrate on Sunday. I owe you a proper second date.
