Professor Starner flipped through the term papers. Dreck, every last one of them. Even his best students' work was barely average; the average students had made "D"s or failed, and the below average students...well, it seemed English had become a lost language for this assignment.
"At least 500 words on your worst fear"
The baseball player with a "worst fear" of being cut from the team. The gorgeous blonde bombshell, afraid of not being able to buy the newest fashion. The techno geek, afraid he wouldn't be able to find the latest gadget.
A few had taken a humor approach, but none had taken the assignment seriously. Where was the fear of having some deep, dark secret exposed? Even if that secret was nothing more than a birth mark shaped like an exclamation point above the buttock, or something equally as trivial. But the "fears" were juvenile at best, infantile at worst.
English Professor Jeremiah Starner was going to be handing out no "A"s or "B"s, 4 "C"s, a dozen or so "D"s, and the rest were going to fail. He'd already decided to reassign the work, giving everyone a chance to improve their grades.
He looked at the "C" list: his 3 best students and the baseball player. Janice, Sherice, and Michael were easily the 3 best in class. Hugh had impressed him. While being cut from the team was hardly a "worst fear", Professor Starner was impressed by the writing and reasoning. A better fear and a lot of proof reading would have increased that grade; the same was true of the other 3.
Starner slid the linen papers across the mahogany top and thought of his students. Janice was that stereotypical mousy girl, brilliant, but shy. She was rather attractive, but his it behind a librarian's hair style and a poor selection of glasses.
Sherice was outspoken, hairs in corn rows, always willing to debate, and seldom wrong.
Michael was the star of the English department. If he picked the academic life, the college was assured of a star professor who would one day outshine them all, and in a brief time. Light brown hair atop an average frame, a less than angelic face, but a personality that lit up his classmates' faces.
Starner searched for the baseball players' paper. He couldn't remember his name, constantly distracted by his handsome face. Steven? Stacy? Stanley? He kept digging through the papers, remembering the tuft of hairs constantly in view, peaking from the white t-shirt always beneath his shirt. He had a not-quite square jaw line, a fun smile, brown eyes, wavy brown hair. "Shit, another hard on."
The paper was finally at hand. Samuel? Saul? Sylvester?
Wayne, that was it.
"My Worst Fear, Being Cut from the team"
He'd almost failed him on the title work alone, but had plowed ahead, as he did every paper. This one had done better than most others.
The next day, Starner sensed some of the students knew what was coming. About 5 seats were unusually vacant, although they filled as the period ran on, students straggling in, knowing looks on their faces, their papers waiting for them at their seats.
"...now that we've gone over what's wrong, let's talk about doing this right," Starner started to wrap up his class. "Everyone will pick a real fear. If you're greatest fear is that you'll be dressed in orange when the fashion is blue, drop this class now. Seriously, there's the door."
He gestured. One girl did a double look, but sat still.
"Be real. Be true. Don't make something up to impress me. Write from the heart. I will not share your fear with anyone else. You had a week to do that last paper. This one is due next class."
He pointed to the door, and the students filed out, many for their last Friday class, knowing they'd be busy over the weekend, some trying to save their scholarships.
Tracy stopped at Starner's desk.
"Can I have some extra time? I'm the maid of honor for my sister's wedding Sunday, and I could use at least until Wednesday," she tried to smile.
Starner looked up.
"Maybe that should have been your worst fear, Tracy," he did smile. "Paper please?"
She handed it to him. He looked at the title.
"Your worst fear is never marrying, despite you writing that no one in your family has ever not married nor ever divorced," Starner said. "And you wrote that your engaged to a man you've dated 5 years, and the date is set for a week after the spring term ends. Plus, you offered no reason why it was your fear."
She did a "cute" smile, tilting her head to the side.
"Have a title to my office by 5 p.m., and I'll let you have until Wednesday to turn in the paper. An outline will be due at Monday's class. And you'll have to reference at least 2 articles to support it," he said, not even looking up. "Otherwise, it's due Monday. By my watch, you have 2 hours to turn in a title. You can slip it under the door as I really don't plan to be there, but I'll check it by 6 p.m."
She ran out the door.
Next was Barb, then Carol, then Robert, then...
One excuse after another, the worst grades begging for more time. Two he allowed until Wednesday – the second receiving the same terms as Tracy, the rest he didn't.
He barely got the students out before the next teacher came in for the 3 p.m. class. Professor Starner could hear a few students following him.
For 5 minutes he dealt with them from his office, finally shooing them to work.
The door closed and Starner enjoyed about 30 minutes of silence.
Knock, knock.
Starner sighed.
"Yes?"
"It's Wayne. May I come in?"
"'May'?" Starner thought. "Maybe he has been paying attention."
"Enter."
The hunky athlete sauntered through the wood-trimmed doors, the professors' offices a different feel than the cafeteria-sterile, tiered-seated classrooms. Wayne had paid attention in his speech classes and made eye contact with the 40-something, black-haired professor. Starner was about Wayne's height, and stood as Wayne approached the desk. Wayne guessed Starner worked out as he presented himself well and his clothes hung off his frame in a manly manner. Starner didn't dress in the suit-and-tie uniform of many professors, especially in the English department. Starner wore Henley shirts, or Polos. He seldom wore anything for a tie.
"It's due Monday," Starner started, sitting after the pair had shaken hands. "Run spell and grammar check on it before you hit print."
Wayne shifted in his seat.
"I don't have a problem with the report being due Monday, Professor Starner," Wayne said, maintaining. "It's the paper itself."
"What about it?" Starner asked.
"The topic."
"And?"
Silence.
"What's your worst fear, Wayne!" Starner shouted, standing up and slamming his fist into the desk top. "It can't be being cut from the team. You're on a fucking athletic scholarship! You're a typically `C' student who gets tutored in every class. Your fear can't be getting cut. Face your fear!"
Wayne kept eye contact, but did blink.
"You sure no one will see the paper?"
"Yes. You hand them in, I grade them, I hand them back."
"Today's were waitin' on the desks," Wayne countered.
"These won't. And you won't pass them forward to submit them. I will either take them at the front, or walk around and directly take them. Anything else?"
Wayne kind of frown, but it made him a bit endearing to Starner.
"My fear is everyone will find out I'm gay," Wayne stated.
Now Starner was silent.
"I'm not stupid, Wayne. Everyone knew this assignment was coming, and everyone knows the follow up assignment. Students do talk from one year to the other," Starner said, assuming knowledge on Wayne's part.
"I'm not following you, prof," Wayne stated seriously. "I don't really do that for my liberal arts classes."
"The next assignment is `How will you over come your worst fear?'," Starner said. "Seriously, if that is your worst fear, how on Earth will you be able to write the follow up paper?"
"I didn't know that."
"I suggest you deal with your real fears," Starner shrugged.
"But I am gay, prof." Wayne sat his ground, not moving from the chair.
Starner was gay, too, and openly gay. He didn't discuss it in class because it didn't have anything to do with English, but he did bring friends to public functions and everyone knew. That might have included Wayne, but Starner had discovered a long time ago that most students just didn't care about their teachers' private lives.
"Well, Wayne, you have until Monday to write that paper," Starner said.
"Jeremiah..."
"That's `Professor Starner' to you, Wayne," he cut the athlete off. "I can sympathize, but the assignment is the assignment. "If you can't do it, come up with a second worst fear."
"That's being dropped from this college because of my grades, hence my being `cut from the team' fear," Wayne explained.
"That's why you received a `C' because you couldn't articulate your fear," Starner said.
Wayne's face scrunched at "articulate". Starner sighed.
"Find it in a dictionary, Wayne," he said.
"But you're gay," Wayne protested, hoping for sympathy that way.
"Wrong tact," Starner immediately stopped Wayne. "Yes, I'm gay, but I'm your professor, and I demand you do the work, and do it well. You'd be a `B' student in my class if you'd just use the tools in your computer word program.
"Your paper is due Monday, your worst fear, and nothing you can do or say is going to change my mind."
Wayne sat and pouted a bit. When Starner said nothing more, Wayne stood, gave Starner a deep look, then left.
A few minutes later, Tracy's paper title slid under the door.
Monday morning, Starner was greeted with papers in envelopes from the department secretary.
"Fear of getting STDs because I'm sexually active."
"My worst fear is I'll die of cancer like every woman in my family."
"I fear you'll fail me because my worst fear IS not being fashionable" With the sub-head of "My mother is a designer and my gay dad is a model."
"Screw this. I don't need the grade."
More than three-fourths of the students had turned in early work, and Tracy had submitted an outline. Nothing from Wayne.
Starner headed to his first class, 8 a.m. He'd hated these when he was a student, and still disliked them. Second class was 9 a.m., then 10 a.m., then a nice break until the 2 p.m. class.
Always arriving early, Starner found more enveloped papers, just about everyone in the class.
By 2 p.m., he had just 3 students in the room: Tim, Michelle and Wayne.
"Did I miss something?" Starner asked, surveying the room.
Tim held up Starner's class schedule, and Starner remembered he'd not scheduled class for today.
"I'm sorry, students," he said. "Just hand me your papers, and go."
Tim and Michelle were gone in seconds, leaving Wayne, who Starner now noticed wasn't wearing his signature white t-shirt.
Wayne handed two papers to the professor.
The top one was titled "My worst fear is my teammates are more homophobic than my dad". Starner made a mental note to give Wayne a copy of Starner's page on how to write up titles, then looked at the second paper.
"My real worst fear is my professor won't have sex with me"
Starner looked up. "You just flunked my class, Wayne."
"What?!?!"
"You're no longer my student. I'll handle your transfer to Doctor Milo's classes," Starner said, no looking up, but writing on a sticky note. "Doctor Pamela Milo and I have very similar work plans, and you'll need this for her class." He handed the first paper back, the sticky note on top. "You're lucky she and I work closely together so you won't have to retake the semester."
He stood and walked from the room, leaving Wayne stunned.
He read the sticky note – "I'll be in my office until 3 p.m."
Wayne received no response to his knock on Starner's office door. He tried again, and again nothing.
He tried the knob, which didn't turn, but the door opened when he pushed.
It was dark. It was a quarter `til. He stepped inside, and decided to close the door and wait in the dark.
The door clicked hard when it shut.
"Overcome your fear, Wayne," Starner said in the darkness. "Overcome your fear."
To be continued...
Men and boys, thanks for your comments. If you send something, remember to put something in the subject line (like your screen name or something non-spam like), or I'll think it is spam and delete it.
Master Terra D masterterradil@yahoo.com