As we step inside, his eyes sweep the lab, setting his bag on a stool and running a hand along the cool surface of a table’s countertop.
“Ah, this brings back memories. It’s a beautiful lab, Isabella. Functional, efficient. Almost like the ones at Princeton.”
That’s not true.
My university is not on the same level as his alma mater. They have a much larger budget than BU, which is evident in their latest technology and the gadgets standard at each workstation.
“But without you,” I say instead of all my comparative thoughts.
I affectionately nudge him with my elbow. He smiles, running a hand through his hair to tame it and then removing his coat and scarf.
“Nonsense. You are here now. That is enough.”
“Would you like to help me with something I’m working on?”
He gives me a sharp nod, his gaze glued to my experiment as he moves toward it. We settle at one of the lab benches, and I set up a simple crystallization reaction for him.
The glassware gleams under the overhead lights, the solution swirling in a mesmerizing dance as I tilt the flask. He leans closer, his eyes narrowing with the focus of a man who has spent his entire life immersed in this world.
“So,” he says after a while, his fingers tapping a soft rhythm on the counter. “How is it going? Are your students as eager as you were?”
I sigh, setting the flask on the stir plate and adjusting the temperature.
“Most of them, yes. There was one. A problem student who didn’t respect me or the class. I kicked him out.”
His brow lifts in curiosity.
“Already? Tell me what happened.”
“He’s arrogant.”
I cross my arms as I lean back against the counter.
“And disruptive. He came in late on the first day, made a scene, and then was surprised when I advised him to leave.” I shake my head. The memory still frustrates me. “Would he have done the same to a male professor? Or you? I don’t think so. Part of me suspects he has a problem with women. As if I haven’t dealt with that nonsense my whole career.”
“He sounds like a character.” He rubs his chin, his lips twitching with amusement. “And how do you feel about him?”
“How do I feel about him?” The question catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“Does he challenge you?”
He picks up a glass rod and examines it with the same care he once reserved for his lab samples.
“Yes! That’s the problem. He doesn’t respect authority. It seems as though this was all a big joke to him. He needs discipline, boundaries, and respect. What? What’s that look for?”
Papà sets the rod down and meets my gaze, his eyes soft but penetrating.
“Sometimes, the ones who challenge us the most are the ones with the most potential. Have you considered why he behaves this way?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe he’s used to getting away with it.”
As I return to the reaction, my lips press into a thin line, watching the crystals slowly form.
“You know how entitled kids are these days, Papà.”
“Cara, they have been and always will be entitled. It’s the world they come from. When you’re born into great wealth, you have endless resources. Their view of the world differs from those of us who have had to work to get where we are. Teaching at the best schools in the nation instills in students the notion that they deserve to be catered to, a notion that has been reinforced throughout their lives. They know nothing else in many respects.”
“I’m not catering to anyone. Science is objective. It doesn’t care if you’re wealthy or not. Every student is equal in this classroom.”
