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I looked at her for a long moment. “This is amazing. You did a great job here,” I praised while tapping her screen. “This is exactly what the department needs, and if we could secure this one grant, we wouldn’t need the other two I had in mind.”
Pride radiated from my student, and her happiness warmed my gut. One of the highlights of teaching had always been creating successful students. The feeling I had at that moment reminded me why I suffered through the bureaucratic bullshit from the university, the piss-poor attitudes from most of the student body, and the long uncompensated hours I put in on the side. Seeing her realize success was a reward of its own. I could just imagine how contagious it would be if we were awarded the grant.
“Maybe… Oh, I don’t know,” she said first with excitement and then immediately second-guessed herself.
“Maye?” I captured her attention with her name.
“Hmm?”
“I want you to stop doubting yourself. I want to hear your ideas as much as I expect you to listen to mine. All right?”
She nodded, swallowed roughly, and voiced her thought. “Well, I was thinking, maybe we should still apply for at least one of the others in case this one doesn’t work out. Like a safety net, you know?”
“That’s a fair point. And I appreciate your caution,” I said and watched my positive feedback light her up from within. “Trust your intuition. You’re a very smart woman. You can rely on your intelligence more than a lot of your peers.” And I meant every word I said.
“Thank you, Dr. Chaplin. I appreciate you saying those things,” she said through a devastating smile. If possible, she was even more radiant when doing something she was excited about.
I sat down in my own chair and clicked on the link she’d sent me.
From the other side of the desk, she asked, “So what do you think about making a list of tasks and then dividing them up? That’s how my sisters and I get the chores done around our house. That way we stay focused.”
While she was talking, I navigated to a file I created years ago. It was exactly what she was talking about, and admittedly, I was anxious to show her that we shared a similar brainstorm.
“I’m air-dropping you a document. You’ll probably want to set my contact to autoaccept to make it easier for us to share files back and forth.” My own excitement was building off hers.
I listened to the different sounds coming from her laptop as she received the file. After a few clicks, I watched her bright-blue eyes dart from left to right. Left to right again and again as she looked at the outline of tasks.
“Yes, this is exactly what I was thinking.” Her face went from excited to serious. I couldn’t anticipate what she was about to say. “Thank you for letting me be part of the process. It makes a big difference when I feel like I’m appreciated for what I can bring to the table instead of being stuffed into the corner and just called on when needed for something you don’t want to do yourself.”
I was shocked. And deflated more than I had words for. “Maye,” I said, just to feel her name in my mouth. “Have I made you feel that way?”
Immediately she tried to smooth over my disappointment. “No, not completely. And don’t get me wrong, I will totally do what I’m assigned to do. I just feel like I stay more engaged when I’m seen.” She looked down to where she was twisting her fingers in her lap. “I’m not sure if any of that made sense?”
Her last thought was posed as a question, and to be honest, I wasn’t one hundred percent clear on what she meant, but I thought it made a degree of sense.
“I think I understand,” I said, and she nodded, seemingly satisfied that I at least acknowledged her comment. So I continued. “You were chosen for this internship based on your skill set, interest level, and performance in class. Those were the standards used in making the decision.”
“Thank you.”
“That being said, I can only hope that one reason for you accepting the position was to learn from my expertise. My experience.” She looked like she wanted to say something, so I paused there.
“It is. That’s exactly how I see this opportunity too.”
“Then you have to be willing to take direction, even if in the moment you don’t understand why I’m asking you to do something. You can rest assured that I have no interest in wasting your time on silly tasks.” Then I added under my breath, “Or mine, for that matter.”
There was a certain level of admiration and appreciation for her bravery to voice her concerns. At the same time, she needed to understand there was only room enough for one cook in this kitchen. Me.
After checking the time, I decided we had pretty much lost our momentum with our research, so it was a good time to break for lunch. “Let’s take an hour for lunch and be back here”—I pointedly looked at my watch—“at 12:45 p.m. There’s still a lot to get through today to stay on schedule.”
“No worries. I just need about twenty minutes to scarf down the sandwich I brought, and I’ll be ready to get back to it,” she said brightly and pulled a brown paper bag from her tote.
Christ, that thing was like a bag of magic tricks. How the hell much fit in that one fabric sack?
Fascinated by everything she did, I stood and stared while she set up a little dining spot on her desk. I must have stayed riveted to the same spot too long, because she finally looked up from what she was doing.
“You’re staying here?” I asked and winced when I registered how rude I sounded.
“Do you need me to leave?” she asked with a reasonable amount of confusion. Before I could excuse my rudeness, she hastily began packing her food back up.
