Called a cab today. It took me to the university and I went to the room where my students were writing their final exam. They’d just begun. When I entered all of them stared at me like I had the wrong room. I rolled to the front with overweening confidence. The instructor, a puny twig of a man who looked like he’d just come out of hibernation, blinked at me and asked me who I was. The little weevil. I designed this class, I said, and I’m insulted that you wrote the final exam without asking my opinion. The man stammered. Glanced at the students, who were no longer interested in writing. I know these texts better than you know your own pecker, I said. A few students exhaled. You’ve no right to take over my class without talking to me. He stammered again. Looked at the exam sheet he was holding. Blake told me it was fine, he said. Blake was McTavish’s first name. I don’t care. You need to show respect. And now, I’m going to invigilate this exam. You can leave. Give that to me. I reached for the exam sheet he held. He was so shaken he automatically handed it to me. Thank you. Now you can leave. He looked at the students again. They now studied him as though he were a thief. I smiled a little. I’m supposed to be here, he said. I’ll make sure they don’t cheat, I said. This is my class, though. No, it’s mine. He bit his lip. But it was given to me. I arched my eyebrows and nodded toward the door. I wiped my mouth just before the drool could drop. Get out of my classroom, I said. His hands stuttered. He waffled for a moment, glancing at the students, desperate for support. Finding none, he went and got his things and walked out. The students looked at me, concerned. I piloted the Pequod front and centre. My name is Professor Dexter Ripley, I said. I was the original teacher for this course, but due to unforeseen circumstances, I was removed from teaching. I will invigilate the exam today. If anyone has any questions, you can come up and ask me, but be discreet about it, as your fellow students are writing. Now, you may return to your exams. I started moving toward the desk at the front. The students glanced at each other. I turned my head. Get to work! They stirred and hunkered down and resumed. I looked over the questions on the exam sheet, then put it down and watched them. Many of them looked up from their work. I watched the door, waiting for the instructor to bring someone from security. After the first hour I chuckled and checked my watch and wrote the time on the chalkboard in jittery digits. The instructor came back in at one point. Get out! I said. You’re interrupting! He left immediately. After that, the time passed without incident. When the students finished I collected the exams and when everyone was out of the room I read them. I frowned and bit my lip. Their perspectives of the texts were vague at best and irrelevant at worst. None of the essays was whole. I felt gratified. I put the exams in the folder on the table and steered my chair out of the room and down the hall to the elevators. The instructor would mark them; the essays were the product of his teaching, not mine. I got up to the English floor. The secretary saw me and stood up. What happened to you, Dexter? she said, pointing to my chair. You look…shakier. I shrugged. I went from the basic model to fully loaded. I patted my chair and gave her the exams. You look thinner, she said, and you got rid of those damn baseball cards. I coughed and wiped my mouth. She chuckled a little and looked over the exams. You all right? I didn’t know you were gonna be supervising an exam today. Well, we cripples are full of surprises. Is Blake here? No, he’s not. I groaned. Where is he? I don’t know, out and about. If you see him tell him to email me and that I’m coming back next year come hell or high water. Why can’t you tell him? ’Cause he won’t listen to me. Tell him I’ll gather students up and teach them on the goddamn lawn if I have to. She nodded. People have been asking about you, she said. I frowned. Shook my head. Turned my chair around. Just tell Blake what I said.
If my colleagues in the department were truly curious about me, they’d contact me. And even then I’d probably ignore them. Maybe they know that.
I’m taking Maggie and Randal out for dinner tonight. Maggie’ll be included only because she’ll be driving. We’ll go to a hole in the wall—a cavernous restaurant, dimly lit. Maybe Amarello’s downtown. For once I need to diminish myself.