“I’m doing it,” Stan said to Alex.
“You keep saying that,” Alex said, continuing to move his pen over the essay. Most of the students had done well with their mid-term projects, but a few still didn’t quite get the true significance of the Civil War. They kept wanting to talk about abstract factors. They couldn’t grasp how personal the war was, literally brother against brother all along the border states.
“I’m serious this time. I’ve had it. Mendelson’s gone too far!” He punctuated that by slapping the memo on Alex’s desk.
“Stan, I’ve already taken my turn at fuming over this thing. Just look at it decorating my dartboard. Now, we both know you’re not going to do it, you’d be in breach of contract.”
“Ah! Not so.” he said triumphantly.
Alex put the pen down to look at him.
“Not if I invoke the service clause,” Stan smirked.
Alex leaned back in his desk chair, considering. “The service clause?”
“ ‘Penalties for failure to complete contractual obligations do not extend to those who volunteer at least 20 hours to charitable organizations.’ “
“What about the students? You’d really do that to them?”
“Ha! Our students are—”
“Okay,” Alex interrupted. “You never have had a good relationship with students. You’ve always been more into the research. So you’ll quit, finish out your research and publish books then hit the lecture circuit, huh?”
“Yep.” He unfolded another piece of paper, placing it on Alex’s desk.
Alex leaned forward to read keywords such as “resigning,” “effective immediately,” and included comments regarding the recent policies such as “preposterous,” and “wildly out of touch with the discipline of teaching,” and a closing of “good riddance,” instead of the more typical “sincerely.”
“Godspeed, Stan.” Alex stood and extended his hand. “Tell your students I’ll be happy to tutor them if they need.”
Stan took it. “Best to send your TA to tell them. I’ll not set foot in the classroom again. I’m delivering this right now.”