Life, on the Line by Grant Achatz (book club reads .txt) 📕

wait. I was toast for sure. The two people in front of me now asked a few questions about “supplemental work”—really just trying to kiss some ass—and then I sheepishly was left alone in the class.

“Professor, I am . . .”

Professor Balmuth interrupted me as he threw his trademark scarf around his neck and moved a lock of hair. “Mr. Kokonas, you’re a real smartass, huh?”

“I am, Professor. And I’m sorry if I was rude. I thought you would find it kind of funny, because, you know, you kind of are too.” I couldn’t believe I said that.

Betraying no emotion, no smile, he said simply, “Follow me to my office.” That was it—he was going to sign some paper and have me shipped out. I walked across the quad to the small building that housed the philosophy staff, trailing a few feet behind Balmuth, who was practically jogging. I followed him up a flight of stairs and into his office. “Please close the door behind you and take a seat.”

I closed the door, and as I turned around, Balmuth had a big smile on his face and his feet were up on his desk as he reclined back with his hands behind his head. “So, Mr. Kokonas, please tell me about yourself.”

I was shocked. Why was he smiling? “What do you, uh, want to know, Professor?”

“Everything. Who are your parents, where do you come from, what do you intend to study at this institution? What do you do for fun? What do you find interesting, or hard, or easy, or amusing?”

I muttered through a story about my existence to that point. He listened while staring up at the ceiling away from me, occasionally letting out a “huh” or a “reaaaallly . . . ?” while grinning at odd moments that to me felt insignificant.

“I figure I’ll study economics, because I want to go into business, with political science as a minor because my dad wants me to go to law school.”

For the first time in twenty minutes Professor Balmuth looked directly at me. “No, I don’t think that is such a good idea. I think you will become a philosophy major and I will be your advisor. Every student here needs an advisor when they take on a major, and I only take a few each year. I will ensure that the huge amounts of money your parents are investing in this great institution, and in you, are not wasted. You will leave here with a real education. So what else are you taking this semester? We will go through that, make necessary changes, and then talk about next semester.”

I was floored. Everyone had told me to fear this man, to muddle through his class, to study harder than you thought necessary just to eke by. And now he was telling me not only what I should study, but also that he would personally help to craft my four years at Colgate. I didn’t know if I should be afraid, thankful, or completely perplexed. “Well, I hadn’t thought about philosophy. What can I do with a philosophy major?”

“Economists, Nick, like to call what they do a science. Political scientists put it right in their name! Ha! But neither is a science. They are both philosophy as well, but a rung or two down. Learn how to learn, Mr. Kokonas, and the rest will take care of itself.”

I left his office without committing. And that night I called my dad and told him what had happened. “You know, your grandfather used to read Greek philosophy to me at night when I was a kid. He was a totally uneducated man, and really broken at that point, but he loved to read philosophy. Plato. Aristotle. It makes sense. If that’s what you want to do, that’s fine by me.”

The next day I brought my book to Intro to Logic and Jim was surprised to see me. “What happened?” he asked.

“Uh, nothing really. He dragged me back to his office and told me that he wanted to be my advisor and that I should study philosophy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Screw you too, Nick!” Jim was an aspiring philosophy major and wanted nothing more than to have Balmuth as his advisor. He shook his head, and didn’t look at me for the rest of the class. I realized then what exactly the offer from Professor Balmuth meant. I waited in the back of the class until everyone left.

“Mr. Kokonas, can I help you?” It was as if the conversation in his office had never happened.

“Yes, Professor. I spoke to my dad last night and thought about what you said. I’m happy to accept your offer. What do I have to do now?”

“Nothing at all. I reviewed your class schedule already and everything is fine for this semester. All you have to do now is perform twice as well as nearly everyone else in this class to earn an A. I expect nothing less of my advisees.”

I spent the fall of my junior year, as many Colgate students do, abroad in London. I then returned to Colgate to find that my housing situation had fallen apart and that I was back in the freshman dorms. I met a few fellow musicians and formed a band—Rare Form—and slogged through the spring semester.

When I returned for my senior year I found everyone worried about their careers or graduate school exams. I took the LSAT and did well, and I figured I would head to law school. I wrote my senior honors thesis on the philosophy of international law, and never really worried about getting into a law school or finding a job. Because I pushed hard my first two years taking extra classes and some summer school, I had a light load senior year. I spent most of my time playing in the band, hanging out, and reading for pleasure.

Then I met my wife.

I was sitting in the third row of an ethics class when I heard someone say,