The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2933 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 Angharad

---

This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
*****

Back at the office and an hour’s marking done before Diane appeared. “You look very smart,” she said.

“I’m a professor, they’re all smart.” I deliberately misconstrued her remarks which related to the fact that I was wearing a brushed denim trouser suit with a blue striped blouse.

“That’s what they think,” she threw back at me.

“Make the tea, slave,” I called and some sort of riposte was lost as the door closed behind her.

I had two more papers to do when she returned with the tea, “If it tastes a bit sweet, it’s only antifreeze.”

“You can’t poison angels anyway,” I joked.

“Is that a challenge?”

“What happened to staff loyalty?”

“Staff what?” she said laughing.

“Can I finish this marking before you kill me then?”

“Okay,” she said and wandered back to her desk. I tasted the tea, it didn’t taste any different to usual.

Finishing the last paper I was just writing the marks on a score sheet I keep of my marking when Debbie knocked and entered. “Thanks for your support yesterday, it meant a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I mean it, I brought you a little thank you present.” She handed me a potted orchid plant. I thanked her and put it on the window sill wondering how long it would survive. I don’t have a brilliant record with houseplants. Usually I forget to water them and then overcompensate and they drown.

“D’you mind if I watch you teach later?”

I glanced at my watch, I had less than an hour. “If you haven’t anything better to do, feel free.”

Forty five minutes later I was talking to John the technician about the slides I’d be using. This was part two of the principles of ecology. They were supposed to have read up about it but I’ll bet no more than a third actually did so.

Some days I think I’d get more response teaching a class of five year olds. Apparently they’d had a dance at the student’s union and it seems my course was well represented. I did remind them they were being treated like adults which meant self-responsibility. I finished the class early and told them to read the chapters for next time or I’d be taking disciplinary action against them. To say I was furious was a slight understatement.

Diane and Debbie came up on stage with me, “I wasn’t expecting that,” declared Debbie.

“Which, my sending them off with fleas in collective ears or closing the class early?”

“A bit of both. Most lecturers I know would have spouted on regardless and it would have been up to the students to work it out later.”

“I do things my way. If they can’t understand the basics, how are we going to move on to the more complex stuff? At least they now have the time to go off and read it.”

“D’you think they will?”

“Some might, most won’t—so the firing squads will be busy.”

She laughed, “You’re one of the most caring teachers in the whole academic system so what will you do if they continue to skive?”

“Make a few examples.”

“What pick on individuals?”

“Yep. I consult with the other teaching staff and if we have any slackers, they get a written warning, they also get an interview with me, the university ogress.”

“Come off it, Cathy, you wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“They’re not flies and anyone who is perceived to be messing about will be cautioned and advised to mend their ways. If they don’t we drop them.”

“What you kick them off the course—what if they’re having problems?”

“They are advised to inform us as early as possible so we can help them.”

“What if they’re like me and can’t bring themselves to talk to anyone about their problems?”

“We can arrange for them to see Student Health who can refer them for counselling or other therapy. We can also advise them to take a deferment to have time to deal with their problems. We try to help when they tell us they have a problem but we’re an educational establishment not a nursery or therapy group.”

“Yet you helped me?”

“You’re staff.”

“Oh does that matter?”

“Of course it does. I have forty or fifty staff, I know most of them quite well, some have been here years. So any problems they have, I hope they would speak to me or to their senior lecturer or reader if that’s more appropriate. I have nearly a thousand students, most of whom I’ve never met on a one to one basis and the interview to tell them to knuckle down may be the first time we ever meet.”

“Okay, I understand it a bit better.”

“The exam results with the first and second years form the basis of our assessment technique, anyone who is seen to be struggling will be called in to see their tutor—you’ll have some, don’t you worry—to identify problems if we can. If they get to see me, they should appreciate they have real problems because I have better things to do than hold their hands, I have so many other jobs to do.”

“I’ve heard you’ve done all sorts of things to help your students including telling their parents they’ve got some horrible disease.”

“That was years ago when I was a simple lecturer.”

“But you care don’t you?”

“Of course I care but I don’t have the time or the energy to spoon feed them. They’re supposed to be adults, but because their parents have solved all their problems and kept them in cotton wool, for some, this is the first time they’ve actually been allowed out on their own. It’s now April, we’re in the final term for the year, if they haven’t matured enough to realise they have a contract with us, which if they break, they can find themselves sent down. This is a university not a kindergarten.”

“Okay, I’ll try and grow up and help some of the others do the same.” She walked away leaving me standing with Diane.

“C’mon, boss-lady, I think you need a cuppa.”

“Was I too tough with her?”

“She’ll grow up under your supervision. Nobody likes to be told they’ve got to get tough with others, especially when they’re hardly any older than the people they’re guiding or supervising.”

“In my first tutorial group I had someone who was old enough to be my mother and she wasn’t coping very well with the pressure.”

“So what did you do?”

“I gave up my lunch hours to coach her.”

“Did she pass?”

“I think she got a two two. Not exactly brilliant.”

“How did she feel about it?”

“She was delighted and went off to do a PGCE and become a biology teacher.”

“Good for her.”

“I don’t know, not sure if she’d cope with that pressure anymore than she did here.”

“But you did your best.”

“I tried.”

“Boss-lady, you are one hell of gal, d’you know that? You really are an angel, aren’t you?”

“Where’s that tea?” I said trying to hide my blushes.