.::oDrew
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"The Worst Professor"
“So instead of just giving everyone in the class a free point, she rewrites the entire exam, and we all had to take the whole thing over again.” All those who were listening to Pete’s horror story about his professor cringed and grimaced. Except me.
“That’s nothing,” I interjected. “One of my professors was so horrible, it makes yours look like a Sunday school teacher.” Pete turned towards me, a look of incredulous disgust on his face. He had never liked me.
“Oh, yeah? And what was so completely horrible about your professor? Didn’t fall for all your ‘teacher’s pet’ schemes?” He literally spat the words.
“If you’ll shut up for more than two seconds, I’ll tell you,” I retorted. Pete leaned back, with a sophomoric smirk that dared me to impress him. I took a moment to collect my thoughts, and recall the events of three semesters ago.
The Environmental Biology of North America seemed like an interesting enough class. The title left little doubt as to what we’d be learning about and the textbook didn’t seem all that complicated. The only question, as always, was what the professor was like. I checked my watch. Two minutes until class, and still no sign of her. According to my class schedule, her name was “Dr. Emma Arctos.” Seemed like a nice enough name, I thought. A moment later, the door burst open and Dr. Arctos lumbered in, her arms full of papers and books. She was taller than I expected, tan-skinned, brown hair, long nails. She plopped her materials down on the desk and turned to face us, resting her hands on the desk behind her. She smiled as she introduced herself, one of the biggest smiles I’ve ever seen. She said we could call her “Dr. Emma,” which I thought sounded quite nice. Still, there seemed to be something strange about her. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what exactly it was.
The first few weeks of class were mostly uneventful. Dr. Emma loved jokes, and would practically roar with laughter whenever a student shared a good one. But beneath the fun-loving side lay a clear passion for what she taught. She often challenged us to think of how our daily decisions can affect animals and their habitats in drastic ways. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and soon enough I found myself truly wanting to do well in her class.
The midterm exam was fast approaching, and I decided to visit Dr. Emma during her office hours for some help. I found her door and gave a few gentle knocks. A few seconds later, she swung open the door and invited me inside. I sat in the chair opposite her desk, and noticed a plate full of half-eaten food on her desk. I asked if I was interrupting her lunch. She said it was quite alright, and that she felt rude, not having any more of this delicious salmon to offer me. I told her I didn’t care much for salmon anyway. She said I was crazy. After a few more minutes of conversing, we tackled my questions. Her answers were clear and precise, and I quickly understood the concepts I had struggled with before. Soon, I had to leave for class, but before I left, she invited me to stop by again the following week. I agreed.
I arrived the next week to find Dr. Emma’s office door already open. She poked her head out from behind the desk and invited me in. She closed the door behind me and invited me to make myself comfortable. I noted that I was glad I hadn’t interrupted her lunch this time; she smiled and said she had other plans. Something about the way she said that made me uneasy. She glanced at me and remarked that I looked absolutely scrumptious this morning.
Suddenly, it hit me, the way a windshield hits a fly.
The long, sharp nails. The enormous mouth. The roaring laugh. The love of animals. The salmon.
A bear. Dr. Emma was a bear.
And she wanted me for lunch.
I bolted towards the door as fast as I could, slamming it behind me. I could hear Dr. Emma roar in surprise and anger. I ran faster than I had ever ran before, streaking down the hallway like the Six Million Dollar man. Glancing behind me, I could see Dr. Emma barreling towards me on all fours, hunger in her eyes and a growl in her throat. I darted down a narrow staircase, hoping she would have trouble maneuvering it. Turns out I was right. Unable to slow her momentum after reaching the bottom of the staircase, she plowed headfirst into a brick wall. The force of the blow left her dazed, and I was able to make my escape.
I never once saw Dr. Emma after that day. Though, I did see an advertisement in the newspaper a few days later announcing a new grizzly bear exhibit. I didn’t go, but it did make me wonder.
“…And that is the story of the worst professor I have ever had.” Pete’s jaw hung open in amazement. The rest of the small crowd that was gathered around me was similarly silent. I looked Pete dead in the eyes and smirked. “But I’m sure yours was pretty terrible, too.”
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