Professor Head Ch. 01 - Intro - Julia

Her face fell.

"However, if you're serious, we can set you up with a work-study with me next semester. I will expect you in my office hours one day per week for a full hour of creative writing discussion and work in addition to your auditing next semester's CW class, and you damn well better participate in class discussions."

Her expression made it painfully clear that this was not at all what she had in mind.

I've had this conversation quite a few times. They didn't want to expend the energy the first time through my class, and they certainly don't want to work harder the second time through. Okay, usually. Rarely a student will take that deal, work her ass off in the next semester, and she actually learns something instead of treating my class as an afterthought to getting drunk at delta phi for every celebration of Thursday.

More commonly...

"I....I.......can't fit that into my schedule."

Mmhmm. "Okay, what do you think is fair and equitable, here?"

"Can't you just...raise my grade to...like...an 80?" That's a fucking B at this school -- a low B, but a B nonetheless.

"From a 48?" I cocked my head to the side and zeroed in on her eyes to impress upon her the absurdity of her request. "That would be tremendously unfair to every student who took my class seriously, worked hard to improve her writing, and participated in class."

".......yeah..." she resigned herself as she slumped in defeat. Unusual. Usual tends to mean they argue that some other issue provides them an excuse or reasoned defense. It's almost always bullshit, and I don't like the taste of shit sandwiches. Still, she didn't offer me any sort of bullshit.

"Okay, you're in the nursing program, correct?" She looked slightly up from her slump and nodded. I took a deep breath and contemplated her plight. With the lack of qualified personnel in the profession, this school managed to create an intensive program that spat out a slew of BSNs in only 26 months. They didn't get their summers off, and their weeks were utterly packed with classes and labs, so she wasn't lying about having no time to audit my class again next semester.

I let the silence linger for an extremely long two minutes. I wanted her thinking about her lack of future...or her preferred future being in my hands.

"Julia, what exactly is running through your mind right now?"

Her eyes had dropped down to my desk, but she returned her gaze to mine before answering, "...that if I'd paid more attention and done the work you clearly described in the syllabus that I wouldn't be in this situation." That was some good on-the-spot bullshittery that stroked my ego at the same time. She had a creative strain, and she wasn't trying to pretend it was someone else's fault...mine, for instance. How refreshing!

"So you take responsibility for your own predicament?"

"Yes, Professor. I just can't think of way out of it." Her eyes dropped down in renewed dejection.

"I can." Her head shot up with the slightest hope behind wide eyes. I handed her final exam back to her, and then I rummaged through my files for her mid-term. When she reached to take it from me, she looked deeply confused. "You're going to redo those exams for me."

Recognition set in for her, "...okay...," and she looked down at her exams and and inched forward in her seat.

"I'm required to turn in all final grades by Friday morning at 8am. Today is Tuesday." It was 4:30pm.

"You will do a better job on those exams for me." She nodded vigorously.

"You will not waste my time." She shook her head with equal vigor.

"You will be here Thursday morning at 7am, and you will do exactly what I say." The surprise returned to her face, but she seemed no less earnest in her intent.

"We will go over your exams again, and you will have done a much better job. I expect you to use the texts and examples I gave you through the semester to make sure your exam performances have dramatically improved." Her eyes were wide. She paid close attention to me now even if it was the first day she did.

"You will also receive punishment for fucking around on me and the class during the semester." The surprise returned to her eyes, and she found my use of "fucking" utterly shocking. I never use vulgarity in class unless I'm reading a quote.

"You will take the punishment willingly even if you don't want it." Her mouth dropped open in astonishment.

"It will be painful and humiliating." Her eyes expanded with fear as she opened her mouth to ask something.

"Don't answer me now." Her shocked mouth closed as she physically jerked with surprise.

"I will know you agree to all of my terms if you show up Thursday. To be crystal clear about this, you will do literally anything I ask of you on Thursday. If I tell you to run naked through Greek Square while waving a flag that reads, free-blowjobs-for-frat-boys, you will do it." I paused to let that sink in, and I let her own imagination do the work. I had no idea what specific sexual depravity scared her, but I wanted it foremost on her mind as she contemplated whether to show up that morning.

"After our meeting Thursday, if you satisfy all terms of our agreement, then you will have earned the 80."

Her shock remained plastered all over her face as another uncomfortable silence lingered.

"If you do not show up at 7am Thursday, I will understand that you do not agree to my terms, and your grade will remain unchanged at 48. Your performance this semester has been entirely your choice, and any attempt to rectify your performance this semester will also be entirely your choice." She kept quiet in her ongoing shock. "Are we clear?"

Her entire body convulsed slightly as she regained the moment, and she nodded as she said, "Yes, Professor." She shuffled her exams in her lap for a moment before adding, "thank you...for the chance to fix these mistakes."

"You're welcome, but I meant it. Don't. Answer. Now." Her overall shock began to subside as I continued, "I want you to think about this and all the implications involved before you agree to anything. Answer me on Thursday at 7am with your presence or absence."

She nodded, sat back in her chair for a few moments of contemplation, and then she began situating herself to leave. Her exams went into her backpack, she pulled her coat into her lap, she set her purse on top of the coat, her hands crossed over her purse, and then she finally refocused on me. "Thank you for meeting me, Professor."

She didn't smile, though the merest hint of playfulness popped up behind her eyes, and I wondered if she intended that particular double entendre. Either way, I enjoyed it, and I grinned.

"You're welcome. Have a thoughtful couple of nights, and if I don't see you Thursday, then I wish you all the best in your future endeavors. If I do see you Thursday, then I look forward to you sharing more of yourself than what you've offered the class all semester."

She stood while offering a final, "yes Sir," and left without looking back, but, as she walked out, I swear I could see a more pronounced swish of her hips than I ever had before.

******

Well, as you very well know, she came.

I'm Professor Richard Blythe Head. I'm in my mid 40s, and while I'd love to tell you I'm in perfect physical condition with a cock you would all kill to have, I'm not and I don't. I figure part of the charm of my experiences is that I'm real. I'm slightly under six feet tall and somewhere north of 300 pounds. I teach language arts at a large college in a small town, and I don't actually live for the shenanigans I describe here, but, when an opportunity falls in my lap, I grab it by the ass and hold on for the ride.

If you made it this far, then I thank you for the time and attention you spent here. You managed to read more of my writing than around half of my students!