I should have seen it coming. In fact, I did see it coming: You may recall that when I first proposed meeting Buffalo Springsteen outside of the classroom, my opening words were, “Buffalo, it’s extremely inappropriate for me to ask given our teacher-student relationship, but –”
She expected nothing from me in the classroom that would be based on anything that happened between us outside the classroom, and I expected nothing from her that would motivate me to assess her performance as a student differently. We set those boundaries long before we envisioned romantic walks along the beach or kisses that delved into untapped emotional crescendos. Well, perhaps we envisioned them, but we discussed the limits long before we acted on the impulses.
I might add, for people still appalled by age gaps between lovers, that there was no significant age gap here. I was a young professor, and she was a final-year student. I was 27 years old, and she was 23 – perfectly acceptable behavior for the usual couple.
But there was indeed this classroom setting where we met three times a week. And so our conversations and clear fondness for each other gained the attention of the obtrusive.
“A word, Raymond,” Ian Yensen said one day after the customary exchange of greetings. Ian chairs the History department at the University of Sirius 4.
“Something wrong, other than the obvious?” I asked. It was the day after the news broke that the reason Earth’s moon dissolved was a weapon that Earthians planned to use to terrify our independent little world.
“Oh, yes, the imaginary bomb. Terrible business, that,” Ian replied. “No, this is not quite that earth-shattering” – a pause while he pondered whether to acknowledge the inadvertent pun – “Have you been seeing a student socially?”
I blinked and grinned, then upon seeing the look on his face swallowed the grin. “As a matter of fact, I have,” I admitted, seeing no reason to misrepresent the plain truth. “We’ve discussed the potential conflict of interest, and I think we each understand that nothing outside of the classroom can affect what happens inside the classroom.”
“That’s a lovely theory, and of course it’s admirable that you’ve discussed it, but you do understand that ethically speaking, you have placed Ms. Springsteen in a compromising position – and yourself of course, and perhaps the university.”
I recalled Buffalo Springsteen snarling at Carson McGillicuddy and coming within an inch of committing petty violence in my class, and suppressed another grin. “I think she is capable of handling the relationship in a reasonable and mature manner.”
“Well and good,” Ian said, “but we need to discuss this further. I’m afraid we’ll have to schedule a formal hearing with the chancellor, dean and myself. I’m not saying this is a major issue, but formalities, you know. You’re certainly not the first professor ever to be enchanted by a student.”
“It’s a little more than that, Ian,” I said, finally a little testy.
“It always seems to be in these cases,” he said. “A week from today, early afternoon?”
With just enough of a pause to indicate he had irritated me: “Fine.”
“Irritated” is the right word. I wasn’t particularly upset or angry or defensive about my friendship with Buffalo, which was well on its way to becoming something deeper. And I understood all of the ramifications that accompany a professor becoming “involved” with a student. It was just a tad annoying to have to defend my integrity and hers in front of officious busybodies.
We never did get around to that hearing, Ian, the chancellor, the dean and I. Life intervened.
Entry 41. The governor
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