“I’m doing
it,” Stan said to Alex.
“You keep
saying that,” Alex said, continuing to move his pen over the essay. Most of the
students had done well with their mid-term projects, but a few still didn’t
quite get the true significance of the Civil War. They kept wanting to talk
about abstract factors. They couldn’t grasp how personal the war was, literally
brother against brother all along the border states.
“I’m
serious this time. I’ve had it. Mendelson’s gone too far!” He punctuated that
by slapping the memo on Alex’s desk.
“Stan, I’ve
already taken my turn at fuming over this thing. Just look at it decorating my
dartboard. Now, we both know you’re not going to do it, you’d be in breach of
contract.”
“Ah! Not
so.” he said triumphantly.
Alex put the pen down to look at
him.
“Not if I invoke the service
clause,” Stan smirked.
Alex leaned back in his desk chair,
considering. “The service clause?”
“ ‘Penalties for failure to
complete contractual obligations do not extend to those who volunteer at least
20 hours to charitable organizations.’ “
“What about the students? You’d
really do that to them?”
“Ha! Our students are—”
“Okay,” Alex interrupted. “You never
have had a good relationship with students. You’ve always been more into the
research. So you’ll quit, finish out your research and publish books then hit
the lecture circuit, huh?”
“Yep.” He unfolded another piece of
paper, placing it on Alex’s desk.
Alex leaned forward to read
keywords such as “resigning,” “effective immediately,” and included comments
regarding the recent policies such as “preposterous,” and “wildly out of touch
with the discipline of teaching,” and a closing of “good riddance,” instead of
the more typical “sincerely.”
Alex chuckled.
“Godspeed, Stan.” Alex stood and
extended his hand. “Tell your students I’ll be happy to tutor them if they
need.”
Stan took it. “Best to send your TA
to tell them. I’ll not set foot in the classroom again. I’m delivering this
right now.”