A Bear-Hug for Professor P

I like Michelle. I can always count on her to be just a little grouchier than I am. Michelle is taking Microeconomics with me, which makes our third class together. So I’ve known her for over a year now. She came storming into class on Monday morning, as mad as I’ve ever seen her. She was very upset about her accounting test score. Unlike my Accounting class which meets once a week for almost three hours, she goes to three 55-minute classes throughout the week. And she had her first exam on Friday, and it apparently had not gone well, for she ran out of time! So she ended up with a grade that was less than acceptable, and she was not amused. To top it off, she had been five minutes late to her Accounting class that very morning and had missed a quiz that consisted of writing their names and the title of the chapter they were to have read. It was over so fast that she missed the whole thing.

And then we got our economics test back, and she was even more unamused. She was in such a snit that I couldn’t help but just laugh at her. Still in a huff, she then said that she just LONGS to have our Math 116 professor back. “I saw her the other day,” said Michelle, “and I just wanted to BEAR-HUG her.” And then we both giggled ourselves into a mini-hysteria, for Professor P is NOT the type of professor one typically bear-hugs.

As I saw it was a Very Bad Day, I decided to take on the role of the Wise Counselor. And I counseled her to aim her arrival time for 7:30 so that she has half an hour to be late and not really be. I also counseled her to drop her fifth class so that she has time to study for these ugly exams. “Michelle,” I said in my sternest voice, “do you want to be satisfied with your performance or do you want to graduate sooner? You cannot work, take five classes, and maintain your sanity all at the same time.” And on and on I went... just as if I knew.

Michelle came to class this morning, her disposition much improved. I asked her if today was a little better, which she confirmed. She told me she knew I was right, and she had gone home on Monday afternoon and simply dropped her stressful art class. And we were both happier for it. I love Michelle.