🖤 The Professor and the Student - Part 1
He was trapped
“We’re in a dead zone here, Professor Jacobson. You’ll have to be patient.”
The younger man glared at his phone in frustration, holding it up and turning in a circle as fat snowflakes melted on his upturned face. Finally, loudly exhaling, he pushed the phone back into his pocket.
“How long?”
The dean wrinkled his brow. “How long what?”
“How long will it be until I can get my car towed out of that ditch? When will someone come by here? When will the phone lines be repaired?”
The older man shrugged. “It depends. We never know. This storm is pretty bad, though. It could be several days, or maybe even weeks. That’s happened before.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Great. So, what am I supposed to do until then?”
“There are worse places to be trapped. We’ll give you a nice room with a comfy bed. Our kitchen is fully stocked. The library has thousands of excellent books, a cozy fire, and lovely armchairs. And you get to do what you do best!”
Dr. Jacobson grunted. “What’s that?”
“Teach, of course! We’re always hungry for fresh blood. I think you’ll find that our students will welcome a professor a bit closer to their generation. They complain eternally that the rest of us are woefully out of touch.”
William lowered his head in resignation. “Yes, that I can do. It will keep me occupied, at least. Okay, I’ll teach. When? Where?”
Dean Jackson beamed at him through a bushy white beard. “Wonderful! The students will be thrilled! No time like the present. Let me show you to a classroom, so you can settle in. I’ll round up some students and bring them to meet you within the hour!”
Left alone in the classroom, William slid his heavy coat off and hung it on a hook near the doorway. The room was smaller than he was used to lecturing in on other campuses, but it made it seem cozier with the soft glow from the windows. The blizzard was still blustering outside, so he turned his attention to the front of the room. A blackboard. Wow, this campus was definitely old school. He found a small piece of chalk and wrote his name with a few notes underneath it on the board.
A slight sound from behind made him turn toward the doorway. Quietly, the college students filed into the room. They seemed intrigued by his presence. Curious eyes watched him as they moved across the room and took their seats. This had to be the most polite class he had taught in years… maybe ever!
“Well, as I’m sure the dean explained, my car got stuck out on the road in this weather. So, apparently, I’m your new professor here until I can be rescued! Lucky me. And lucky you. Let’s make the best of it, okay?”
They responded with shy smiles. A few heads nodded silently. William shrugged and continued.
“I’m Professor Jacobson, and I teach literature at Western Hills College in Coldwater. Heard of it?”
Blank stares answered his question. He chuckled. “Well, I’m not surprised. It’s not exactly a top destination for young students like yourselves. But, then again, it doesn’t look like this place is, either. I never even knew it existed! You are certainly tucked away back here.”
No response. Okay, fine…
“Well, let’s get started. How many of you have read ‘Big Two-Hearted River’ by Hemingway?”
Half of the class raised their hands tentatively. What a shy bunch!
“Okay, well. Let’s work with what we have. I have a question for you. Why do you think Hemingway’s language in this story was so simplistic? I’m sure you noticed the short sentences and simple descriptions of mundane activities. Why did he do that?”
He scanned the room, looking for a spark of interest. Most of the students simply observed him, seeming to watch his every move as he paced back and forth at the front of the room. Finally, a young man raised his hand.
“Yes? You.” William pointed in his direction.
“Because he was an old human losing his mind?”
That got a response. A few of the other students laughed, but most were silent.
The professor rolled his eyes. “Yes, he was ancient like me. That must be it. Anyone else?”
A young woman in the back raised her hand. “It made sense to me. He was recovering from the horrors of war. Focusing on simple, good things kept his mind happy and busy. He was doing everything he could to keep the terrible memories from surfacing. I understand that.”
William grinned at her. “Very good! Exactly. Hemingway had experienced war himself at a young age. Only 19! So, he knew what it was like to return to the normal world to heal after it was over. He was trying to portray the tight leash the young man was keeping on his mind. By focusing on the experiences of the simple moments of daily life, he kept the demons at bay.”
Shyly, the pretty girl returned his grin with a slight smile and a nod. Well, at least one of these students showed some promise. He continued his lecture for the rest of the hour, stealing glances at his new prize pupil now and again.
