I follow her gaze to the clusters of students enjoying the nice day and individuals out here. It appears every person out here islooking at us, which is more attention than I usually get. I spot a familiar face and wave him over. His name is…
Darn it. I should know this. We’ve had at least four classes together. We’ve worked on two major projects together, and we volunteered for Habitat for Humanity together last year.
“Hey, Magnus. Dr. Ying.” He greets me by name as he falls in step with us, and my cheeks burn for having forgotten his name.
“Mr. Zapato,” Dr. Ying greets him, and they both look at me.
“Hey, man,” I say, taking a page out of Trent’s book for ways to address familiar people. “Any idea why everyone’s staring at me?” I ask.
Mr. Zapato looks around. “It’s because of the livestream Trent did last night. I was online when he started streaming, so I joined. It was basically an online study session, but he forgot to stop the live stream when you got back to the dorm, and everyone saw him carry you to bed.” He shrugs as if that explains everything, and I guess I can extrapolate the reason for the stares from that.
“Ah, they think because he takes care of me in vulnerable moments that we’re romantically involved.” My heart flutters happily, and I can’t help smiling at that. I guess I’m a little excited that our schtick is working so well. “We’re not, you know. You can tell everyone we’re not dating.”
He shoots me a surprised look but nods. “Sure. You get dinner with your parents sorted?” he asks out of nowhere.
“You heard about that?”
He snorts a laugh. “Oh yeah. We all heard about that.”
Weird that they’re invested in that. I’ll have to make a note about it. Maybe Trent has some insight into why our audience would be interested in dinner with my parents. “We have reservations at Seifutei at eight with my parents.”
“Fancy,” he comments as we reach the steps to the Whitehall building. “Anyway, I gotta get to class, too.” He jerks his thumb behind us to a different building.
“Oh, thank you for walking with me and answering my questions.”
He pushes his dark bangs out of his eyes and adjusts the straps on his ragged backpack. “No problem. Tell Trent hi from me.”
“Of course,” I promise.
He tells Connie goodbye and leaves us, and Connie also takes her leave, so I make my way to the statistics class by myself.
When I arrive, the class is full, and it looks like we have auditors, Chancellor Mustafa and Dr. Filmore. Why the hell would the Director of Chinese Studies audit my statistics class? Instead of shooting him a nasty look, I school my features into something neutral and start prepping for class. I pull out the homework my TA graded, my laptop, and the set of notecards I use for reference if I need them.
“Come get your papers before we start,” I tell the class as my eyes catch on Trent for a moment, but I force my gaze to move on.
Nervousness makes my heart pound like I’m new to teaching, and I chalk it up to having the Chancellor in class even though I know him well. Breathing through it, I get my laptop set up for the projector, and by the time I’m ready, the students have finished getting their papers back.
I look up to the Chancellor, ignoring Dr. Filmore. “Good morning, everyone. We have Chancellor Mustafa in class today, so please welcome him,” I say, starting a short round of applause.
After, I get down to business, talking first about their homework and reminding them of when my office hours are if they have any questions or want to go over them individually. Iusually have two or three students that need me to go over their grades because they didn’t put enough effort in and at least one student who thinks the grade they got is unfair.
I launch straight into my lesson from there, talking through the subject of today’s lesson for forty minutes. After that I give them worksheets to work on in groups. I read a study several years ago that suggested group work affects student success in positive ways, so I give all of my classes in-class time to work as groups, but I also start each semester by passing out study group signup sheets. So far, I’ve noticed that the students that take advantage of the study groups have higher grades than the ones who don’t.
While the class works together, I wander over to the Chancellor, greeting him with a handshake. “Hello, Dr. Mustafa. To what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask curiously.
Mehcad Mustafa and I have a good working relationship. During my undergraduate years, I ate dinner at his house with his family every Tuesday and Friday. I wouldn’t say we’re friends, he’s more of a role model than a friend, but we have always been solidly amicable.
“Hello, Magnus,” Chancellor Mustafa greets me, smiling through his shiny black beard. His dark walnut brown eyes study for a moment. “I was curious how your adjusted schedule was working. You appear in need of a good night’s sleep.”
I swallow a yawn, chuckling at myself. “Yes, I had a busy schedule at the conference, and I’ve been playing catch up since then. I’ll catch up this weekend, and Dr. Ying reminded me that grad students are always willing to do the tedious work of the research. Now that I’ve narrowed the parameters of my current research, I’m going to hire a few grad students to help catalog the data I’ve gathered. That will free up more time so I can keep my life balanced.”
Chancellor Mustafa was the person who taught me the importance of balance from the time I came to the university, so I know he understands what I’m saying.
“Ah, that’s good. I’m glad to hear it.” He stands, taking my hand and leaning in to press a kiss to my cheek. “Text Amani to arrange dinner together. She’s been poking me to remind you that she requires your presence at dinner occasionally.”
A wide smile splits my lips. Dr. Amani Mustafa is the most interesting woman I know. She’s an archaeologist and spends her summers on digs all around the world, but she prefers working in South America. She’s made headlines for archaeology multiple times in her life, but if anyone asks her what her greatest accomplishment is, she would say it's getting her husband to work on time every morning for the last thirty years. Keeping his wife happy is Mehcad’s main goal in life, and if that means I have to text her to have dinner with her once a month, then that’s the burden I bear for his happiness.
Fortunately, I love the woman and look forward to every dinner I get to have with her. “I’ll do that. It will probably be after spring break, but I’ll make sure she sees my face soon.”
