[Fen Churche 02] - Night Train to Paris by Fliss Chester (best ereader for graphic novels .TXT) 📕

Ayn Rand. No, he loves Ayn Rand. Her novels AND also her philosophy. She’s his favorite philosopher…as if anyone actually has a favorite philosopher…whatever. Anyway, he’s been upset that I’m an English major. Says that, like, it isn’t a practical degree, and that it’ll never lead to a good job. Somehow, he heard about Professor Siemens, or maybe he just heard about the Ayn Rand Center at ASU, I don’t really know? So, he told me that IF I took some courses from her and IF I wrote my honors thesis on something related to Ayn Rand, that he’d buy me an Audi for graduation. Just the A3, but still…you know?”

“Well, good luck on that.” As she listened, Jillian thought, first, that she actually did have a favorite philosopher, and second, she thought about her own car, the Corolla that was a graduation gift from her parents…only without the strings attached.

“Ms. Nagel, let me get back to some questions about Professor Siemens. A fairly standard question is…do you know if she had any enemies?”

“You know, Detective…I’m sorry, could you tell me your name again?”

“It’s Warne.”

“Thanks, Detective Warne, I guess I’m a little…like, I don’t know what I am…just…weirded-out? So, even though Professor Siemens was my thesis director, I didn’t see her much…you know…in class, for sure, and I’ve been to office a few times about my thesis. But, it’s always pretty much down to business. No chit chat.”

“Sure, I understand. Well then, how about in class…with the other students? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Jillian heard her exhale. “Well, like I said, she wasn’t very pro-student.”

“Someone who we’ve talked with said that she had a reputation for being especially tough on students of color. Ever see that?”

Another exhale. “Yah, I guess, maybe? She’d say things like ‘no one should expect any preferential treatment because of identity politics…whatever….’ That always seemed, I don’t know, like out of place because it just came out of nowhere. There were some black students in class, and maybe a couple of Latina girls, too, but her comments were just…like, out of place…you know? I guess they made everyone feel like weird, and I guess the students of color felt worse, but I didn’t know any of them, so I don’t really know. Mainly, she was just boring.”

“OK, I see. So, did anyone in the class seem to be especially upset or even angry?”

“No, like I said, everyone was pretty much weirded-out.”

“But you stuck with her for your thesis?”

“Yah…this is embarrassing, but I really wanted that Audi. And now, I just don’t know… So, like the girl who you knew who lost her thesis director…so she made it through OK?”

“Yes, she did. And, here’s one other thing I want to say, Ms. Nagel. What happened to you yesterday was very traumatic, and I’d suggest that you see a counselor. ASU has them, and they’re very good. I can even give you the phone…”

“Thanks, that’s nice, but, Ms. Wilson—she’s not the head of English, but she’s something—anyway, she already gave me a card—it’s a counselor she actually knows—and she really wanted me to make an appointment. I haven’t done that yet…”

“That’s good advice, Ms. Nagel,” Jillian said, and smiled about Grace Wilson. “Please consider doing it.”

“OK, I promise, I’ll call when we hang up.” She hesitated, then said, “And so, while you’re on, maybe you could tell me…is ASU, like, open again?”

“Yes, ASU is officially re-opened…for classes, the libraries, everything.”

“Yah, OK.”

Jillian thought she sounded disappointed.” She smiled. “But, Ms. Nagel, if you aren’t ready to go back to class yet, you know, given what happened to you, if you need a little more time, I’m sure that if you see an ASU counselor…they’d write you an excuse from classes…at least for a while.”

“Yah…that sounds great,” she said, upbeat again. “Thanks, Detective Warne…somehow I think you’ve helped me more than I’ve helped you.”

“What a nice thing to say. And listen, I’ll give you my phone number in case you think of anything you think I should know. Or just to call for whatever reason.”

Wes wasn’t at his desk when she rang-off, so Jillian took a few minutes and organized her interview notes with Carla Nagel. She closed her IPAD when she finished, and thought about the student…she felt for her. Doing an honors thesis was difficult under the best of circumstances, and obviously these weren’t the best of circumstances. Jillian hoped that she’d call the counselor that Grace had recommended.

For a time, she just stared into space…thinking about her own undergrad days. Honors students are used to making A’s on their papers—they’re smart, which is why they’re honors students—but when you start the thesis project, suddenly nothing you do seems good enough anymore.

Jillian remembered that she’d turned-in the first draft of her thesis to Carolyn feeling so good about it: she’d worked really hard on that draft AND she was ahead of schedule. Maybe a week went by and she’d gotten an email from Carolyn asking her to come by her office to discuss the draft. Jillian had gone to Carolyn’s office feeling really proud, but left feeling like an amoeba. Although Carolyn had been positive in her verbal comments, the hard copy of her paper was a different story: page after page of red marks, strike-outs; questions, and more questions. The writing wasn’t good enough; there were problems with noun/verb agreement; other comments read ‘run-on sentence;’ sometimes Carolyn had simply written ‘unclear” beside a sentence.’ There were even more comments about Jillian’s argument: ‘inadequate thesis statement;’ ‘need more cites to other research;’ ‘too much exposition, not enough quotes from the data;’ maybe worst of all, some comments she just could barely decipher because they started along the left margin, looped up to the top of the page, and down the other side margin. It was all Jillian could do not to cry.

The thing about Carolyn, though, is that even though she was so demanding and in a fairly detached way, she remained very positive throughout the meeting. She