Page 7 of Teaching Cayden

“Whatever man,” he muttered. “Four more months and then he leaves. I have a mind to find his sister and fuck her just to piss him off.”

“Whoa!” My head jerked back. “Do you even know her?”

“Nope. If I drink enough it won’t matter. I’d screw her just to mess with him.” He shrugged. “She’s older though, so there’s that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I was confused here. Was he actually going to go through with this?

“It means that she’s gonna have to get drunk for me to have a chance.” He turned and began to stand.

“I’m gonna pretend that I didn’t hear you say any of this.” I shook my head. “I’ll help you with the bathrooms if you promise that you’re not going to piss off Pres. I wouldn’t survive the rest of the year if you got blackballed. Promise me this is just you shooting your mouth off.”

“Do you really think I would do something to get me kicked out after we worked so hard to get in?” Noah smirked at me. “I’m just venting. Relax, Sutter.” He clapped me on the back before chuckling. “Later.” He waved before walking away.

“I’ll meet you at the house tonight. We can get started on your chores.” I laughed as I headed toward the food counter. I came here to eat, and apparently, I was eating alone.

Addison

Today had been a long day to begin with, but when Dr. Haywood called me asking for me to stop by his office, I knew it was getting ready to be longer. He never called me, so I had this feeling that I was getting ready to have a whole shit ton of work dropped onto my plate, and boy was I right. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t slept worth a damn the night before, which caused me to wake up late. My coffee maker decided that it was going to die this morning, so my already late self had to stop at the coffee shop on campus, making me even later. Good thing my professor didn’t notice me slipping into my seat in the back of the lecture hall. At least I don’t think she did. Now, here I am dragging my feet up to Dr. Haywood’s office.

I knocked lightly as I waited for him to look up from his desk. He was deep in thought with something and rubbing his brow. “Addison, come in.” He motioned to a chair across from him.

“You needed to see me, Sir?” I shifted the books in my arms as I tried to stifle a yawn.

“These are for you.” He handed me a stack of papers that I recognized as the tests from last week. “I don’t understand.” I crinkled my forehead as I took them. They were unmarked. “Did the class do that bad?”

“I’m not sure. I’d like for you to score them.” He smiled before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Me?” I pointed at my chest as I attempted not to drop everything in my arms.

“Yes.” He smiled. “I knew having you as a TA would help me this semester. I’d like for you to score the tests, and then let me know the range and mean of the class. I’d also like your feedback on whether or not you think they need more instruction.”

“Sure.” I smiled back at him despite the fact that I was exhausted and this little assignment was going to keep me up most of the night.

“Here’s the key, and you can award partial credit for the work they show. I look forward to talking with you tomorrow.” With that, he went back to what he was doing, leaving me to make my way out.

The entire walk to my car felt like I had a brick on my shoulders. I knew I could do this; the thing was, I wasn’t planning on it. I’d had these plans to go back, take a long bath, and go to bed. Now I was going to spend the majority of the night staring at differential equations. Yay fun!

I’ve been sitting on the floor in front of my coffee table for the last hour. Each test has been about the same. Most of the students know what they’re doing they just don’t have the entire concept down. It will come, though. For a first test, these aren’t bad. That is, until I get to Cayden Sutter’s. His handwriting is small and extremely neat, for a guy. It looks almost as if it was typed it’s so perfect. He’s solved each problem exactly how I would, and I wonder if it’s because of my study sessions that he’s attended or if he just thinks like me. I shake off that idea as soon as I get to the last problem.

In his perfect writing in a column on the right side is about every formula you would need to solve the problem except one. He’s broken down each section and meticulously solved them until he got to the end. The work just stops, and then the words start. In an almost pleading fashion he’s written a letter to Dr. Haywood asking for mercy on his grade. He’s explained that he knows what he’s doing and to just give him a chance. I sigh as I find both humor and compassion bubble up inside me. I understand where he’s coming from. There have been times that even I draw a blank, but I also know that math is either right or wrong and if you’re wrong it can cause big problems.

I write a big +1/2 in red ink at the top of page and toss it on the pile of the graded papers. Half is all I can give him and that’s only because Dr. Haywood said I could. I’m sure as the semester unfolds, half credit will go away because math only cares if you’re right. A wrong answer for an engineer could be a life or death issue depending on the job they’re completing. It bothers me that I have to be that way, but I can’t let whatever my brain wants to think about Cayden get to my better judgement. He’s a student, and nothing more.

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