Owning My Professor

Debbie's Pov “Oh my god, I’m so scared.” I stood outside the lecturer's office with my heart in my hand. I looked above where the name panel was and yup, it had Prof. Marcus Sullivan written boldly on it. I really need this teaching assistant position. I paused for a moment, took a deep breath, put on my miss-so-polite smile, knocked once, opened the door and entered the office. Prof. Sullivan sat at his desk working on his computer when I got in. As soon as I entered, he raised his head and flashed me his ever-friendly smile. “Good day sir,” I greeted rather shyly. “Good day Miss Greene, how can I be of help to you?” he replied. “I am actually here for the teaching assistant position,” I responded. “Oh I see, do you have your resume with you?” he said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes softly. For a second, I looked at him properly. He looked a bit stressed, and it felt like there were more white hairs in his hair and beard than there were last week. His eyes looked tired too. I quickly stopped myself. Why was I even observing all that? I took out the resume from my file and handed it over to him. He put on his glasses and paused for a moment while scanning through it. “Miss Greene, I see you have quite an impressive resume. Do we have ourselves here a genius?” he said with a smile. “Thank you sir,” I answered with a slight blush. “I would love to hire you on the spot based on what I can see here, but I still need to compare with other resumes and make sure I am giving everyone a fair chance,” he added with a somewhat apologetic look on his face. My stomach dropped a little. Of course, there would be competition. Everyone wanted this position. “I understand sir,” I replied. “Could you check back by Monday next week?” he asked after taking a moment to look at his calendar. “That will be fine sir,” I replied. We said our goodbyes and I stepped out of the office. As soon as I closed the door, I let out my breath. I did not even realize I was holding it. Professor Marcus Sullivan was one professor I really admired in school. And it was not just me. A lot of people admired him. I loved his style of teaching. He had a way of breaking things down and making sure everyone was following along that even the weakest student could understand and people almost never failed his class. Last semester I once stayed back after class because I did not understand an assignment. He sat with me for almost thirty minutes explaining concepts that should have taken five. That day, I decided if there was ever an opportunity to work under him, I would take it. Oh, and boy could he dress. Sometimes I saw him in class, and it felt like he had just stepped out of a fashion show. He was very tall, almost 188cm, with a really fit physique that was probably a result of his regular gym runs. Hold up, I’m not a stalker. I only know because he somehow manages to mention the gym whenever he is teaching. I always looked forward to his classes. So when I heard his teaching assistant had resigned, I rushed to apply. I already knew there would be a lot of applications. I heard most teaching assistants eventually got internships at his publishing firm and everyone was dying for that role because they only took a select few every year. But for me, it was more than that. Last year I made a terrible decision and my scholarship got cut. Now I had to figure out every extra expense myself. Since it was the final year, my parents agreed to pay tuition, but every other thing, books, feeding, transportation, I had to handle it. I needed this job. I finally got to my hostel and my untidy roommate had left the room in another mess. It was like she had to try twenty different outfits just to end up wearing the first one. I dropped my bag at the table and started tidying up. That was when she walked in. “Oh Debbie, I am so sorry,” she said apologetically as she bent down and started picking up the clothes with me. “I was rushing back to tidy up before you got back.” I stood up without saying anything. I removed my dress, picked up my toiletries and headed for the bathroom. Just one last year. One teaching assistant position. And absolutely no room left to fail.