One More Time by Deborah Cooke Read Free Book Online Page A

governors have decided to address this false perception by improving upon our already excellent grading standards. Beginning with this semester, 50% of all students registered in a given class must receive a grade of B-plus or better. In addition, the former policy of 80% of all students achieving a passing grade still stands. I’m sure that you can see—”
    Leslie’s mind absorbed half of that and stalled in shock.
    “But wait a minute, sir,” Naomi said. She was still young enough to go looking for trouble and Leslie felt a twinge of sympathy for her. “How does giving away good grades for nothing contribute to the pursuit of academic excellence?”
    “You must encourage excellence, Dr. Tucker. I’m sure that your fellows can provide some suggestions for you to use in the classroom.”
    It was ridiculously easy to tell one’s place from Dinkelmann’s manner of address: he only called the favored few by the first names. Leslie had found it a dubious, if not an unwelcome, distinction to be called by her first name.
    Naomi was not in that club, it was clear.
    “But sir, rewarding substandard efforts is counter-intuitive.” Naomi was wading in deep here, too deep to be saved. Everyone began to avidly take notes, which Leslie doubted were any more substantial than her own.
    She, for example, had written “Matt” on her notepad and drawn a box around it. She wrote “New Orleans” beneath his name, then crossed it out because she felt obliged to add “Sharan” and would not do that.
    Not even on paper. Instead she wrote “Zach”, but couldn’t keep herself from adding a question mark. Her stomach roiled.
    Could a marriage end, just like that? Without her really knowing why? Without her having a chance to make it better? Leslie supposed that this happened all the time.
    To other people.
    She concentrated on not yacking chocolate chip muffin on her shoes.
    Naomi frowned as she spoke. “I don’t really see the problem with being known as a tough school. Surely that means that graduating students have a more marketable asset in their degree?”
    “The university, in these challenging times, feels compelled to ensure its own marketability first. And we will do that, each and every one of us, by stimulating our students and motivating them to learn!” Dinkelmann drove his fist into his palm. It was his favorite gesture of emphasis. “Academic excellence must be cultivated! Academic excellence must be courted with enthusiasm! Remember that our students will blossom into the researchers and instructors of the future. It is our obligation to ensure the future!”
    “But...”
    “Your point has been made and noted, Dr. Tucker. This is an expectation from the board of governors and thus it is an expectation of mine. You will ensure that the grades you give this semester cohere to the new plan or you will find yourself seeking other opportunities.”
    There was a collective inhalation and a few furtive glances were exchanged between the professors still seeking tenure. Leslie added little circles around her doodle, as if her husband’s name had become a Broadway sign.
    Or was reflected in another woman’s make-up mirror. Leslie began to scribble over everything but his name. Matt had to come back.
    Didn’t he?
    “But the scheme for grading has already been given to the students,” Naomi insisted. “And I’ve already marked their first essays. I can’t change the grading scheme without giving them cause for appeal.” She smiled, confident she’d scored a hit. “And that would make more work for you, Dr. Dinkelmann.”
    Dinkelmann’s tight smile said otherwise. “Then you must find a way to balance the two, Dr. Tucker. The solution is your problem to resolve, not mine.” It was clear to everyone in the room that Naomi had lost this particular battle.
    A dull flush tinged her neck. “I suppose I’ll have to think about that.”
    “Don’t think about it, Dr. Tucker. Do it.”
    There was a heartbeat of