- Aug 24, 2020
- 13
- Gender
- Female
- Pronouns
- She/her
- Posting Status
- Weekly
On a rainy Sunday morning, at the corner table of a small coffee shop tucked away from the hustle and bustle of Manta Carlos city, a very stressed professor was marking up stapled packets of student work. The shop was the warm and cozy kind, with soft natural lighting and thriving plants artfully scattered around. The walls were adorned with poetry and art from local writers and artists, the tables were well-worn but equally well-loved, and the chairs wooden but comfortable. The display case next to the counter was full of pastries, muffins, and another yummy good fresh baked that morning, while the coffee menu above the counter was filled corner-to-corner with a variety of drinks: lattes, frappuccinos, teas, coffees, and bottled sodas, if you were in the mood for it.
The cafe was nearly empty, probably because of the rain and early hour, but it was warm and inviting, and a cracked window spilled out scents of coffee and cakes just as it let it the soothing smell of rain.
At the professor's table, six empty cups were spread across surface. Scrawled on receipts tucked under each cup were hints to their past contents: mostly random letters, but a pattern emerged after the first three cups. The scribbles read PSL. NW PSL Trip. EW PSL Quad.
Jane had two stacks of packets before her: graded and ungraded. The latter was much taller than the former, which was giving her a great deal of stress. This was her first test administered to her students, and she never expected that grading them would take so long. She'd been at it for an hour and a half and found herself obsessing over every tiny detail of answers to try and give feedback. But how much feedback was too much? Were comments too specific, or too vague?
The exhausted teacher slumped in her chair, tied her hair up in a lop-sided lump on top of her head, and practically slid from her chair to step into line for the seventh time.
"A quad was too bitter and took over the taste of the pumpkin," Jane thought. "Maybe back to a triple. With extra, extra whip cream. Maybe I can ask for no lid so they can put even more on."
Lost in her caffeine fantasy, Jane didn't move forward in line or order. She simply remained frozen, as if transfixed by the sprawling coffee menu before her.
The cafe was nearly empty, probably because of the rain and early hour, but it was warm and inviting, and a cracked window spilled out scents of coffee and cakes just as it let it the soothing smell of rain.
At the professor's table, six empty cups were spread across surface. Scrawled on receipts tucked under each cup were hints to their past contents: mostly random letters, but a pattern emerged after the first three cups. The scribbles read PSL. NW PSL Trip. EW PSL Quad.
Jane had two stacks of packets before her: graded and ungraded. The latter was much taller than the former, which was giving her a great deal of stress. This was her first test administered to her students, and she never expected that grading them would take so long. She'd been at it for an hour and a half and found herself obsessing over every tiny detail of answers to try and give feedback. But how much feedback was too much? Were comments too specific, or too vague?
The exhausted teacher slumped in her chair, tied her hair up in a lop-sided lump on top of her head, and practically slid from her chair to step into line for the seventh time.
"A quad was too bitter and took over the taste of the pumpkin," Jane thought. "Maybe back to a triple. With extra, extra whip cream. Maybe I can ask for no lid so they can put even more on."
Lost in her caffeine fantasy, Jane didn't move forward in line or order. She simply remained frozen, as if transfixed by the sprawling coffee menu before her.