Page 28 of Bleeding Hearts

With it secured in her hand, I scoot my walker along the campus path, feeling the bumps under the wheels and the warmth of the sun as Alicia follows alongside.

“Kids these days are so spoiled,” she says as we pass a group of students camped out on the lawn with their laptops open. “We never had anything this nice. Do they even have textbooks? Use paper and pen?”

“Do you use paper and pen at your job?” I laugh as she holds the door open to my building. “Does anyone?”

“No.” Laughter fills the air as we walk down the gleaming hallway. “Are you ready to be the big boss lady?”

Pausing at my office door, I read the new nameplate.Dr. Bethany Rogan, Clinical Psychologist & Department Chair.It’s been a long hard road to get here. Lots of late nights after making sure my boys came first, all worth it, knowing I didn’t let my crazy life stop me from achieving my goals.

Alicia lays a hand on my shoulder. “I’m proud of you. I know I’ve said it before, but I feel like it’s worth saying again.”

“Thank you.”

She ushers me into the outer office, where our department secretary is diligently working. Bridget looks up and jumps to her feet as soon as I enter.

“Oh my god. Look at you. I didn’t think we’d see you again for another couple weeks.” She rushes around her desk and wraps her arms around me. “Tell me what you need. Are you teaching today or just coming in to catch up on department business?”

“Both.” I lean in but can’t return her hug since I’m holding on to the walker to keep my balance. “My first class is at ten. That gives me a little over an hour to figure out my schedule for today. If you have time, we can do that together.”

“Let me finish responding to a few emails and I’ll be right there.”

Alicia follows me into my office. Once I’ve maneuvered my way around my desk and am seated, she hands me my bag. “You all good?”

“Yep. My classes are all close by. Bridget can help me if I need it.” My fingers brush against the soft fabric of my bag before I pull out the cool metal of my laptop. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Today is a big day for my sister. She’s meeting with her boss to discuss a new job opportunity. If all goes as planned, she’ll know for sure and likely start the process of relocating to Savannah. I know I’m not the main reason for her decision, but I’ll gladly reap the benefits. For years, I’ve been trying to get her to move closer. When this is all over, I just might give Dillon a big, fat kiss on his adorable lips for making it happen.

Bridget joins me in my office five minutes later, and we hash out a solid plan. After we discuss how I want her to handle my open office hours, it’s time for my first class, Psych 101. Thankfully, that class is in the lecture hall right next door, making my commute easier.

When I arrive, about half of my students have already arrived. A few look confused, probably because they were expecting my TA, Jonathan, and not me. Since I can’t stand theentire class, I take a seat at the lecture table and connect my laptop.

A smile crosses my face as I think about what Alicia said about pen and paper. I’ve relied on my laptop for so long I can’t remember the last time I wrote something down for class. Everything else is saved on these amazing devices that keep everything a click away.

Bridget leaves once I’m settled, giving me a chance to take a quick glance around the room. First impressions are key in a class this size. I know a few will surprise me, but most won’t. My years in behavioral clinical physiology have given me a strong ability to understand my students. I do my best to meet all their needs, because failing them isn’t my goal. My goal is for each of one to be successful and leave my class with a positive experience. I know a few will fall through the cracks, but I do my best to keep that from happening.

The group of gentlemen in the back are a prime example. They’re far more interested in the three ladies in front of them than being in class. None of them have their laptops out and ready. One is slumped in his chair, AirPods in his ears, sunglasses on his face, and his cap pulled low, looking ready for a long nap.

Not in my class.

“Good morning. I’m Dr. Rogan.” I debated way back if it seemed snobby of me to think everyone should call me doctor, but then decided I’d earned it. “Welcome. I know you’ve had three classes with Johnathan, and I’m sure you’ve learned so much already. Hopefully, you read the required material and are prepared for our first oral pop quiz.”

As I expected, the class moans in protest.

From my bag, I take out a bag of Hershey’s Kisses and put it on my desk. A few are now sitting up a little taller, curious why I’ve done that.

“Today isn’t for a grade.” That gets a few soft cheers from the room of nearly fifty. “But if you answer the questions correctly, you get to come up here and take three chocolates. I know that may sound silly, but I’ve learned we all like to be rewarded from time to time for succeeding.”

One boy from the back hollers out, his voice echoing in the large space. “What happens if we get it wrong?”

I knew that question was coming. “Today, nothing. You just don’t get your chocolates. But next time, it could mean you lose points or will be asked to leave class.”

The young men exchange a look before shrugging. It’s then the gentleman slouched in his seat, sits up, flips his hat around, and removes his sunglasses. Our eyes lock. I then understand why my earlier assessment of him hit me. He wears the same cocksure attitude he did the day he sat across from me at my dining room table.

“One more thing.” Throughout my explanation of the rules, I never take my eyes off him. “While this class is an introductory class and will fulfill a core requirement, it’s not a blow off class. I’m not one of those professors trying to weed you out, but I expect you to participate and do the work. If you don’t, you’ll fail. It’s that simple. All assignments are to be submitted on time. I don’t grant extensions. There is no grading curve. I won’t compare you to the other students. You will be judged individually on the work you hand in. Any questions?”

A thick silence hangs in the air, the only sound the occasional nervous cough, as pointed stares and rigid postures speak volumes of the room’s tension. But no one says or asks anything.

We continue with our class as I go around the room, randomly calling on students to see who has read and comprehended the material and who hasn’t. As I expected, about half of them did the work. Between the other half, abouthalf of them tried to skim the material before I called on them but failed to comprehend it. The others just sat there and shrugged or admitted they didn’t know.

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