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A hush falls over the room, only interrupted by the occasional reverent whisper, as Professor Imperious Dickwad, also known as Professor Don Green by the people who respect him, makes his way up and down the aisles of our university classroom. He approaches each student one by one, smiling and returning exams like he’s handing out stacks of cash, so gleeful is the expression on his face.
At a school like mine, it would be considered un-Christian to call a professor an unflattering name. But I’m not here at this uber-religious institution by choice, not really, and I have no interest in the expectations other students here conform to.
For one, I am not a fan of this man. Not because he’s not a brilliant math teacher—he may be, but I am so bad at math, and therefore, calculus, that I couldn’t assess his skill with a magnifying glass—but because he’s a rude, egotistical jerk. He thinks calculus is God’s gift to academics and that anyone who doesn’t ace is class is a complete dunce unworthy of his respect.
I would be included in that group. I’m not proud of it, nor am I particularly worried about it. Here, at the small university I attend, at least half the students fail calc, so I’m in good company.
“Miss Perkins,” he says with distaste, as if my name is dirty in his mouth, “here you go.”
He leaves my exam upside-down on my desk like he does everybody’s, so no one can see my grade, which I’m pretty sure is not going to be good. I look to my right and left and find my classmates are craning their necks to see what I got. I give each of them the stink-eye and they get back to their own exam grades, possibly equally as shitty. Or not.
I tuck my exam into a notebook without looking at it, like I couldn’t care less and have better things to worry about. And I do. For one, I’m freaking starving, not having eaten all day. If I don’t get food soon, I’m going to pass out.
The truth is, though, I should be worried about this exam, this class, and Professor Dickwad.
I’m in line for a paralegal internship at my dad’s best friend’s firm this summer. But, if my grades aren’t stellar, he made it clear this coveted spot will go to some other student.
Never mind he and my dad are besties and have played fantasy football together for years. But he took the opportunity to tell me he doesn’t like ‘nepo babies,’ the people who get a leg up based on who they are related to or acquainted with, and that I have to compete just like anybody else.
I nodded solemnly as he shared this resolve with me, even though I wanted to scream this is for a freaking internship at your middling law firm, not the lead role in a Hollywood blockbuster movie or a presidential bid.
For Christ’s sake.
The truth is though, this internship, should I land it, will be a serious leg up in my being pretty much guaranteed a job after college graduation. I mean, there are other jobs out there, sure. But the sooner I start working and making some money, the sooner I can move out of my parents’ house and away from their over-the-top repressive religious beliefs that resulted in my being at this super-Christian university to begin with.
I would have loved to attend State, a huge university with weekend football games book-ended by parties with bands and flowing beer. Where I could live with a roommate who doesn’t hang crucifixes all over our dorm room, who dresses like a nun, and who I can hear whacking off at night when she thinks I’m asleep, followed by saying the rosary to beg the Lord’s forgiveness.
Seriously. That’s what this hardcore religious stuff does to people. Turns them into massive hypocrites. If you want to beat your meat, freaking go for it. As far as I know, it never landed anyone in hell.
All the God-heads I’m surrounded by haven’t discouraged me from having a little party in my pants when I’m feeling horny.
The other reason to get the grades, a job, and move out of my parents’ house is that my mother is none too happy with my ambitions. First, her ass is frosted that I am going to college at all, hard as that is to believe. And second, she’s doubly resentful my dad is spending the money he is, supporting my education, most of which is paid for with scholarships and my summer jobs anyway.
In Mother’s world, girls don’t need to go to college. They marry the first guy who comes along, like many of my friends have, and start pumping out babies. To her, that is ‘God’s plan.’ Same size fits all.
Well, I don’t know if it’s God’s plan or not, but I can promise you, it’s not Rose Perkins’ plan. No, I have a different plan, and it includes neither husbands nor babies.
Lucky for me, Dad is supportive even though it’s not easy for him, going up against my mom. I feel badly for him sometimes, I really do. But I’m keeping my eye on the prize. I will get out of school and be a success. I won’t be relying on anyone but myself.
Class lets out, so I scoot out of the math building and head back across campus to my dorm. When I’m sure none of my nosy classmates are nearby, I pull my calc exam out of my backpack and find it marked with a huge red ‘D.’
Great. Just great.
I hadn’t thought I’d ace the test, but I sure didn’t expect to earn a D. This is not good. Not at all.
I shove the exam out of sight like that will make it all go away, and as I continue walking, tears blur my vision. If I don’t find a way to make this shit work, I will become like the girls I went to high school with, married mothers at the age of twenty.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just not for me.
Because I’m not paying attention, I am bumped into and jostled by other students on their way to and from classes. No one says excuse me. You’d think at a godly, uber-religious school like mine, people would go overboard with manners. They do not.
But it’s when I stumble and drop all my things to the ground and someone stops to help me, that I start to think maybe there’s a way out of my predicament.
“Hey, Rose,” a guy from my dorm says as he hands me my calc book.
“Oh, thanks, John. I need to pay better attention to where I’m going,” I say, taking my book from him.
While this dude is drop dead gorgeous and nice to boot, he’s one of the guys at school on track to attend seminary after he finishes undergrad.
