“Well, you see, sir, I’ve been havin’ a bit of trouble with my classes this semester. My advisor and I met last week, and the meeting didn’t go too well. Quinn thought it would be…” She puts pressure on my toes with her foot. “Wethought it would be a good idea to discuss the situation with you.”
“How did the meeting notgo too well?”
“He told me I was going to flunk out and that perhaps I’m not cut out for Chadoin, or college in general.”
Dr. Murphy nods thoughtfully. “I can imagine that would be difficult to hear. But it’s the responsibility of our professors to give students feedback on their performance.”
“With all due respect, Dr. Murphy, you’re wrong. That’s not what this professor was doing, and I think you know it.” Quinn cuts in.
He rears back.
“Now, excuse me, young lady.” He puffs himself up, ready tolight into her, but she isn't having it. She jumps to her feet, standing at the edge of his desk.
“No, sir, I don’t excuse you. I’ve spent my whole life on campuses. I’ve seen deans and department chairs and professors with all different approaches to how they work with students. But there is one trait that’s always consistent with the good ones, the ones worthy of the title of professor. They don’t give up on students who are willing to put in the work to improve, especially not a few months into college.
“This young man is extraordinary. He came here with no family or friends to guide him. He’s doneeverythinghimself. Chadoin gave him a full-ride scholarship because they saw that work ethic. They saw his potential. There are resources here on campus that Colton didn’t even know about because hisadvisor, if we can call him that, couldn’t be bothered to tell him.”
Quinn clenches her jaw and holds her chin high. I can’t pull my eyes away from her. She’s ferocious and confident and eloquent. And all to support me.
I’ve never had someone willing to fight on my behalf.
And I’ve never loved anyone like I love Quinn.
She turns to me. “Did your advisor ask why you’re struggling?” I shake my head. “Did he tell you about tutoring services?” Another shake. “The Writing Center? Office hours where you could talk to your professors?” Another shake. She turns her attention back to Dr. Murphy. “What’s the point of having these resources if you don’t tell students about them?”
Dr. Murphy waves his hand. “I’m sure Dr. Christensen is planning to send those resources.”
She leans over his desk, hands planted, eyes boring down on him. “He told him the university wouldn’t waste any more money on him. Does that sound like the words of someone who plans to provide resources?”
Dr. Murphy has the sense to look ashamed. “You’re right.That’s an inappropriate comment for a faculty member, and I’ll speak with him.”
“I also expect your support when he approaches his professors about his grades.”Goddamn, she’s ballsy.She lays a sheet on the desk in front of him. “Here’s the plan we’ve written out.”
Dr. Murphy’s eyes scan the page, his eyebrows raising. “This is impressive, Ms. Riley. More thorough than most of our advisors.”
“That says more about your advisors than it says about me, sir,” she says, but the small flush that covers her cheeks betrays how pleased she is. She worked hard on it and deserves all the praise she can get.
Dr. Murphy passes the sheet back to Quinn. “I’ll tell his professors he’s coming, but he has to do the work himself.”
“We’re not asking you to hand him better grades. We’re asking for a chance for him to improve without being treated like dirt. Chadoin University is an exceptional institution. Much better than it’s shown itself to be toward Colton.”
With that mic drop, she pulls me toward the door before Dr. Murphy can come to his senses and realize we had no right to demand anything of him.
Before we can escape, he calls out, “What are you studying, Miss Riley?”
She turns back to look at him. “Classical civilizations. Why?”
“A shame. You’d be a shark in the boardroom. We could use that in our program.”
“I’m only a shark when someone I care about isn’t being treated right. I’m sorry to say your sales metrics could never rile me up like that. But thank you for your support.”
“You’re welcome. And Mr. Miller?”
I stiffen, waiting for whatever new insult will be hurled my way.
“Sometimes a student’s grades are low because the transition to college is hard, but sometimes it’s because they’re in the wrongfield. Your grade is nearly perfect in your history class. Ask yourself why you’re studying business. That might be the first step to getting where you need to be.”
Quinn and I walk in silence through the outer offices, through the hallways and courtyards as we make our way across campus. Dr. Murphy’s question plays on repeat in my mind. Why am I studying business? Because it feels safe? Because it’s what Momma and I talked about all those years, me getting a business degree and making something of myself for both our sakes?
