Austin
S
handler’s, a little greasy spoon just off the main UT campus, was almost deserted at mid-afternoon. Chan sat poking a fork around the remnants of a tuna salad plate, wondering if her pitch to the curriculum committee would go over any better than it had with her department head. Professor Ambrose was a nice enough guy for a political scientist who had never worked in his field outside academe, but he was quick to spot flaws in any presentation that sought his endorsement. As she’d feared when Chan made the appointment with him, Ambrose felt her pitch needed more documented muscle if it was going to impress the curriculum committee meeting scheduled for next month. There would be tenured professors and associates from all departments flogging new course ideas and he wanted any po
