I never do anything erotic in my office. It's down a narrow corridor, with six other offices right there, and thin walls so everyone can hear everything.
But earlier this week I made an exception. I figured it was safe enough, during a tornado.
It was Freshman Orientation:hundreds of newly-admitted students and their families were getting tours of the campus, going to advising meetings, checking out the gym, and talking to me, starstruck over meeting a Real College Professor..
1. The Tan Dad
8:30 am: As I am walking across campus from the parking lot, I see a family standing around a map, looking confused: teenage girl, mom, and the dad: in his mid 30s, deeply tanned and heavily muscled.
I stop, introduce myself, and give them directions to the library. Turns out that Tan Dad and company have come all the way from California: daughter had some kind of sports scholarship.
"I lived in West Hollywood for ten years," I tell them. "It's been quite a culture shock."
8:45: There is a boy sitting in the lounge area of my department, texting on his cell phone. Rather thin, androgynous, tenting in his short pants. He sees me and quickly covers up.
"The secretary is out today. Can I help you?"
He's planning to major in one of the sciences or social sciences, but he doesn't know which. I give him some brochures.
"Our program is all about diversity," I tell him. "Injustice based on race, religion, social class...and sexual orientation."
The sexual orientation always makes them nervous if they're straight. The Tenting Texter grins at me: "Well, I'm all about diversity."
10:00: a group of faculty sit on stage in the big auditorium, talking to the parents of the newly admitted freshmen and answering questions. Mostly husband-wife pairs, sometimes with a kid tagging along. But the Bear Dad is sitting alone; either the wife couldn't make it, or he's single.
He's in his 40s, tanned, slightly graying, muscular, his pecs swelling against his white dress shirt. Unbuttoned three buttons, revealing a nice hairy chest.
He asks about online courses.
"I teach online all the time," I tell him. "It's anonymous, you don't get to know the students, and they don't get to know you. I much prefer on-site courses, or a hybrid."
.
4. The Surfer
10:45. Now it's time to meet in small groups with the students, and answer any of their questions.
My group consists of five girls and four guys, one a blond beach boy in a white muscle shirt with a surfing logo.
"Um...sorry, we don't have a surfing team here," I say. He laughs.
Then he asks about "what ticks off professors." I want to say something like "coming to class with your shirt on," but of course I play it cool.
12:00: The faculty all get a free lunch in the cafeteria, so we can eat freshmen and their families and answer questions. I wave at the Tan Dad and Surfer from before, but they're already sitting with someone. I choose two guys, both in their teens or twenties. One is probably Hispanic, with dark skin and black hair. The other is a ruddy blond Anglo.
"Which of you is the father?" I ask.
The Hispanic guy laughs. "We've been getting that all day. I'm the Big Brother."
"My mom and stepdad couldn't be here," the Anglo says, "So he gets the job of keeping me out of trouble."
"Or getting you into trouble," Big Brother adds. "So, what's the craziest thing that ever happened in one of your classes?"
2:00. It's raining outside, so I head for the campus gym and jog around the indoor track. Downstairs there's a volleyball game going on. Mostly girls, but two boys, one white, one Asian, who don't seem to mind playing a "girl's sport."
As I circle the track, he looks up. Our eyes meet. Twice.
Then he's gone.
Then suddenly he's jogging alongside me.
"Hi, are you a professor?" he asks. "I have a couple of questions."
Turns out he's a transfer student from a college out east, here to play volleyball and major in Native American Studies, with a minor in Gender Studies.
3:00: I return to my office. Occasionally freshmen or their families or both drop by to ask more questions or get some brochures. They're wet -- it's raining hard.
4:00 I'm having a very nice, nearly cruisy conversation with one of #1-6, above, when a loud buzzer goes off and a voice says "Tornado Warning. A tornado has been sighted near our city. Take shelter immediately."
The guy looks around in alarm. "Where is the shelter?" he asks.
"Well, there's a shelter in the basement of this building, but my office is in a corridor inside another corridor, so you can't get much safer. You might as well sit it out here. I have snacks and sodas, and I can get you on the wi-fi."
We sit on the couch. He texts his family to tell them where he is, and then starts watching a movie. I put my arm around him to see better. Soon we're kissing and fondling.
The tornado warning is extended three times -- we can't leave until about 5:30. By that time he's gone down on me once, and I've gone down on his impressively thick Bratwurst+ twice.
Ok, ready to guess who it was?
1. The Tan Dad
2. The Tenting Texter
3. The Bear Dad
4. The Surfer
5. The Big Brothr
6. The Volleyball Player
Answer after the break
By the way, we didn't get a tornado after all.
See also: Cruising in Tucumcari
Don't worry, he was well over 18
ReplyDeleteCollege student. I actually have a whole separate rant about how Native American Studies is dominated by white (and increasingly, Arab, for some reason) professors. But that's for another time. (I get it: We all take more practical courses. But still, it always struck me as odd. The other ethnic and gender studies courses aren't like that.)
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