Decline Being a Tutor

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” I said with an apologetic tone, “but I’m not really sure I can be a tutor.”

Doctor Pulaski stared at me hard for a moment, until his ears finally slumped.

“Very well. I expect to hear you’re working hard for Doctor Lee.”

“Yes sir,” I said. Without another word, I hurried off to Circuits. A quick stroll through the hallways brought me to a large classroom filled nearly to bursting with sophomores. A quick glance at the podium showed that Doctor Lee hadn’t showed up yet, and an idea popped into my head. Hiding a grin, I strode with purpose to the podium, slung my bag under it, and peered out at the students.

“Good afternoon,” I said, forcing solemnity. “I’m Professor Barnum, and welcome to Graphology One-Oh-One. We’ll be spending the next semester studying how a person’s handwriting can be used to determine facets of their personality. While it is a neat trick at parties, this is a real science with real studies and I really can’t keep a straight face. Sorry, this is Circuits. My name’s Kyle, I’ll be the Teacher’s Assistant for this class, which means I basically get to do all the paperwork so that Doctor Lee can skip out early for lunch.”

There was a smattering of laughter that quickly stifled itself (or in one case, belted into a braying guffaw) when Doctor Lee marched in. He was young, nearing thirty, but had a crisp sharpness about him that said he would allow no fooling around and accept nothing but perfection. I stepped away as he mechanically laid out his lecture notes on the podium and began the class.

“Good afternoon, student,” he said. “I am Doctor Joon Song Lee. This class is Circuit One. We’ll cover analysis and design of DC—is direct current—circuit. Helping me is Kyle. He’ll grade papers and sometimes fill in class.”

Wait. I’d fill in what now? Could he even do that?

The class continued on, mostly basic stuff. Roll call, syllabus, etcetera. By the time Doctor Lee finally let the students go, my stomach had started twisting itself in knots in protest of not being fed since dinner the night before. I hurried out of the building, bag bouncing against my back as I tried to hook my arm in the loose strap. I barely made it five steps out the door when something slammed into my side. I let out a grunt and ended up sprawled on the sidewalk.

“Oww. Not again!” I grumbled as I pushed myself to a sitting position.