He releases my hand and we both sit, he in the leather chair across the coffee table, and I back onto the couch. I don’t know if I’m supposed to lead this conversation or if he will.
“So, I’ve taken care of the guest lecture rescheduling for this week.” Alright, we’re going to dive right in, I guess.
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate you finding fill-ins for me this week. I know, in my current mental/emotional state I wouldn’t be able to teach to the best of my ability right now.”
“No worries. You know how the other grad students can be — they’re like piranhas chomping at the bit for any opportunity.”
“Right,” I chuckle, suddenly more nervous about asking for more scheduling accommodations since he’s just reminded me of the competition.
“You plan to commute for the next two weeks? Three?” Dr. Ryan asks, removing his glasses and using his sweater to clean them. Gosh, I hate when people do that. That’s the easiest way to ruin perfectly good lenses. They make alcohol wipes for a reason, people.
I clasp my hands tightly on my lap, trying but failing to quell my nerves. “Actually, sir, I’m here to talk about extending my commuter status.” He pauses mid-cleaning, looking up at me with a blank expression. I have no idea what this man is thinking right now.
“Extending? As in, a month? Or longer?” He replaces his glasses and maintains his poker face.
“Longer. I actually need to become a permanent commuter student.” I pause, waiting for his reaction. Nothing. Great. I continue, “I learned this weekend that my sister and brother-in-law named me legal guardian of their daughter, so I’ll be moving back home this week and commuting to and from campus each day for the rest of the semester.”
“Guardian? Aren’t you only twenty-two?”
“Twenty-one, sir. But this is what my sister wanted, and I have my parents to help out and we’ll be living with them, so I won’t be alone. My parents support my continuing with my master’s degree, and with my mom at home I won’t need to sort out childcare while I’m on campus.”
Dr. Ryan steeples his hands, tapping his closed mouth with his joined fingertips. “I see. And what about evening classes? You’re scheduled to teach two undergraduate evening classes next semester.”
Shit. I forgot about those. “Do you know if those are block classes or are they multi-day?”
He stands, walks to the office door, and calls out. “Lisa, can you bring me a print-out of my next-semester schedule?”
I can’t make out her response, but Dr. Ryan returns to his armchair so I assume she’ll bring it in shortly.
“What do you plan to do for your own class schedule? You typically take nine hours. That, on top of your TA responsibilities, and commuting, and serving as a guardian — that all seems like a lot, don’t you think?”
“Yes, sir. I plan to lighten my class load, and hopefully with fewer classes and just the two classes to help teach, I won’t have to commute all five days of the week.”
Lisa walks in and hands Dr. Ryan a print-out, then pulls the door closed behind her as she returns to her desk.
“That’s a tall order, but let’s see if we can figure something out.”Oh thank God. He isn’t kicking me to the curb just yet.
Dr. Ryan stands, retrieves a pen and notepad from his desk, then sits next to me on the couch to brainstorm possible schedules that better accommodate my new life as a parent.
After an hour of mapping both teaching and class schedules, I think we have next semester figured out. I’ll have to give up one of my teaching slots, but Dr. Ryan doesn’t seem perturbed by it and I’ll still grade for every one of his classes.
“That should do it, yes?” Dr. Ryan adjusts his glasses as he looks over to me and smiles.
“Yes. Yes, thank you so much!” My eyes are watering. Shit, not now. Don’t cry in front of your professor, idiot!
I wipe my eyes but the tears keep falling. “I’m so sorry, sir. I’m just overwhelmed by the last week and I was worried coming into this meeting that I’d have to give up my position as your TA. I didn’t know if my need to commute and lighten my workload would result in you needing to find someone else, and I’ve worked so hard to earn this position I couldn’t imagine giving it up. Everything is up in the air right now and I don’t know left from right. I’m a complete mess.”Cheese and Rice, Alis. Word vomit much?I’m still crying, now wiping snot from my nose with my shirt sleeve. Lovely.
“Shhh, Alis. Everything is going to be alright.” Dr. Ryan places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes lightly to offer some comfort.
That one touch breaks the emotional dam inside me and suddenly I’m sobbing into my hands, unable to calm the hell down.
“I’m so sorry. I just...” My voice breaks, overwhelmed with emotion and the words sticking in my throat.
Before I know it, Dr. Ryan's comforting arms are around me. “Alis, it's going to be okay. You'll navigate this. And if extending your degree means you stay on as my TA a bit longer, then that's just a bonus.”
I manage a weak laugh, pulling back slightly to meet his understanding gaze. “Thank you, Dr. Ryan. This means a lot.”
As our conversation concludes, the door swings open, revealing Margaret Ryan. Her gaze scans the room — first, landing on me,visibly shaken, then to her husband, comforting me. I see the moment the sight is misinterpreted in her eyes.
