Head upstairs to Professor Walford’s office hours

Professor Walford beckoned him in.

“And just what brings HHU’s best and brightest to my office hours today?”

She was in her early forties, tall and athletic and wickedly pretty, with a pair of large, shapely breasts – which Nate’s eyes were always embarrassingly drawn toward. Today she wore a lavender blouse with the top two buttons undone to expose just enough cleavage to draw one’s eye without quite being immodest.

Her greeting threw Nate off. Was she being sarcastic?

“Um, Professor Walford. I, um.... It’s about the paper you returned to me last week. For your anthropology lecture.”

“Yes, quite an impressive performance,” she said softly, her lips forming a half-smile.

She was trying to throw him off balance, Nate thought. But he wouldn’t let this go.

“Yes, well, Professor. The thing is, I feel quite confident that I earned a perfect score.”

He fiddled nervously with his glasses as she stared at him silently for what seemed like an eternity.

“You are really something, Nathaniel.”

“Professor?”

“Such an outsize intellect for one so young. And an ego to match. You’ve really managed to shine during your time at HHU. All your teachers have been simply blinded by your brilliance. But I’m different....”

“I- I believe, Professor, that I have earned every distinction I have achieved here. I have worked harder than....”

“No doubt you have. But in my years of teaching I have come to realize there is no such thing as perfection. There is always some... tiny... little... something hidden away.”

Nate felt his stomach clench. He shuffled his feet as he struggled to find a response.

“I... don’t pretend to be perfect, Professor. I just think that on this paper....”

“That you deserved a superior score. Right? Well, Nathaniel, in fact I think I may have grossly exaggerated in my appraisal.”

“What do you mean? Professor?”

Nate intensely regretted having come here. But he was trapped now.

“I have evidence that you may have plagiarized several paragraphs of material from an anthropology periodical.”

“I would never....”

She calmly reached into her desk and produced a stack of photocopies.

“Please, take a look.”

Nate had not – and would never – consciously steal someone else’s words or ideas. Yet he recognized the language from the periodical as highly similar, if not identical, to what he had written. His mind raced. How did this happen? And what did it mean for his academic career? Scandal. Likely a suspension. And, without a doubt, the end of Nate’s brilliant success story. He knew he must have looked pathetic, but he couldn’t help it as his eyes filled with tears.

“Ah, Nathaniel. Please compose yourself. I think we can reach an accommodation here. I’ve been in need of some assistance with a couple special research projects. Perhaps, if you’re willing, we can leave this plagiarism matter between us. But be mindful, these projects may be a bit challenging for you.”

Nate didn’t hesitate. “I’ll do anything you need, Professor. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Very well. I’m glad to hear you say that. I have a couple ideas. You can either assist me with an in-class demonstration for our weekly anthropology lecture. Or you can help me with an after-hours project that may be slightly more time consuming.”

Nate sighed audibly. Neither option sounded too bad.