“For those of you who choose to take it again, your two grades will be averaged. Straight-A students like Nell, who’s sulking beside me, also bombed the midterm. It doesn’t reflect well on Briar when more than half the students in a course are flunking, especially when it’s not just the slackers. I heard that a ton of students complained to their advisors about her, and I suspect the administration is forcing her to give everyone a redo. The word she just used-willing? Yeah, right. “I’m willing to offer a makeup exam to anyone who failed or received a C-minus or lower.” Tolbert’s nose wrinkles as if she can’t fathom why it’s even necessary. Here’s a hint-it’s because she asks the types of questions you could write a frickin’ grad school thesis on. And she honestly can’t seem to grasp why nobody is excelling in her class.
Instant Oscar for Hilary Swank.Įxcept this isn’t a movie, which means that the only thing Tolbert has inspired in her students is hatred. If this was a movie, she’d be the young, ambitious teacher who shows up at the inner city school and inspires the fuckups, and suddenly everyone’s putting down their AKs and picking up their pencils, and the end credits scroll up to announce how all the kids got into Harvard or some shit. She’s new to Briar University, and she’s the kind of prof who wants you to make connections and “engage” with the material. Luckily (and yep, that’s total sarcasm) Pamela Tolbert stepped in to take over Lane’s class. I heard his cleaning lady found him on the bathroom floor-naked.
The prof who used to teach it handed out brainless multiple choice tests and a final “exam” consisting of a personal essay that posed a moral dilemma and asked how you’d react to it.īut two weeks before the semester started, Professor Lane dropped dead from a heart attack. Philosophical Ethics was supposed to be a breeze. All I did was scribble down a never-ending stream of bullshit to try to fill up the booklet. And I’d be lying if I said the big red A! circled on top of my midterm hadn’t come as a complete shock. Surprise, surprise, seventy percent of the class got a C-plus or lower on the midterm. In the five years since the rape, my heart has pounded for only two guys.Īt the podium in the lecture hall, Professor Tolbert delivers what I’ve come to refer to as the Disappointment Speech. He’s wearing a baseball cap today, but I know what’s beneath it: thick dark hair, the kind that looks silky to the touch and makes you want to run your fingers through it. Though I should probably come up with another adjective-my male friends insist that men don’t like being called beautiful.īut holy hell, there’s no other way to describe his rugged features and soulful brown eyes. For the millionth time in forty-five minutes, I sneak a peek in Justin Kohl’s direction, and he’s so beautiful it makes my throat close up.
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