But Myrtle knew such a haughty confidence only ever betrayed raging insecurities beneath the surface. She had at one time or another met people who had something to be arrogant about, and noticed they never were. She had figured out that any arrogance was only so much whistling past the graveyard at midnight ~ always a rather lame attempt to disguise quivering fear. Nevertheless, Pelham regularly insisted that his students didn’t learn because they were all stupid, despite the fact that some of these same students were among the department’s most promising talent. So the reality was, he only made himself look the fool, but apparently didn't realize it.
The girls sat down in Myrtle's office and the one who was already crying started pulling tissues from the proffered box. For Myrtle it was deja vu. But she threaded her fingers together on her desk and listened attentively to their complaints. Then she comforted them, explained to them what she'd learned about people like Pelham, and challenged them to make a complaint to the college administration. But the girls were afraid of repercussions if they did.
"There's only so much I can do then," said Myrtle, shrugging. "When people are afraid to face a situation squarely, it can't be resolved squarely either. You should give it some careful thought, but you should also keep it in perspective and not miss your next class," she said. Then she stood, gave them each a hug, and ushered them out the door.
Myrtle sighed, wondering why everything always happened all at once. Just then, Pelham himself strode through her door. She turned and glared at him from her one good eye as he took an aggressive stance in front of her. Without bothering with the formality of a greeting, pleasant or otherwise, he leaned toward Myrtle and declared, "I swear to God, Myrtle, they’re all too stupid to live!"
"Who?" asked Myrtle innocently.
"Why... the students!" he bellowed. "It’s too frustrating! I take the time to explain to them... I give them the benefit... and they don’t get it! We’re raising idiots these days!"
Myrtle sat back down in her chair and regarded him calmly. "Funny," she said.
"It’s not funny at all!" he blustered. Then he stopped and looked at Myrtle more closely. She had crossed her arms and wasn’t exactly looking amused. "What's so funny?" he demanded.
She uncrossed her arms. "It’s funny that a lot of these same students get good grades in their other classes. And it’s funny that the other teachers don’t complain about them being stupid," she said, gazing sternly at him.
He just stood staring haughtily back at Myrtle, but slowly turned red, and then an interesting shade of purple as he gradually realized that Myrtle was not intimidated by his attitude.
Simply put, Myrtle had no time for his pomposity, so she cut him off even before he could begin any rants. "I don't believe, Dick doesn't believe, the Dean doesn't believe these students are stupid. They helped pass these students through the admissions process." She paused to let that sink in a bit, then continued. "You may wish to consider, Mr. Pelham, that you are a contract instructor who has not yet been offered tenure by this college," she said quietly. "You may also want to bear in mind that past student evaluations of your teaching abilities have been less than favourable." Myrtle’s eye narrowed even more as she uncrossed her legs and leaned across her desk toward him. "One might wonder just how many enemies you can really afford to make."
Pelham backed up a couple of steps, his eyes slowly widening. He had expected Myrtle to be sympathetic, but something was terribly wrong. Suddenly he spun around.... "Of course," added Myrtle with a polite smile, as he strode to the doorway to leave, "if you want to complain to Dick about your students, I’d be happy to book you an appointment," she chirped. But by the time she’d finished, Max Pelham was striding away down the hallway out of earshot.
Myrtle sighed again and sat back in her chair, just as Dick came through the door, looking around to see who Myrtle was talking to. "Something?" he inquired.
"Max Pelham was just in here, complaining about his students again," she explained.
Dick’s eyes took on a slightly panicked look. "Do I have to listen to him again?" he asked.
Myrtle chuckled and shook her head. "No, I don’t think he wants to complain to you this time."
Just as Dick began showing signs of relief, she added, "but don’t get the idea this is the last you’ll hear of it, because I bet it isn’t," she smiled.
As Dick slowly digested this tidbit, Myrtle cheerfully reminded him that she was leaving early for a medical appointment. She handed Dick a file folder of work that some of the faculty might be looking for later in the afternoon - a quiz for Professor Ryan, a letter she’d typed for Mr. Dingman, and a reading list that Professor Syms might be looking for soon. "Keep them in your office, Dick, and I'll lock this one."
Dick nodded in agreement. It was he who hadn’t been happy with faculty rummaging around in Myrtle’s office when she wasn’t around, so he was grateful for her thoughtfulness.
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