Chapter Seven
Gil Grissom returned to his suite of rooms on campus with a satisfied smirk on his face. He usually tried to do his entomophagy lecture on the second or third day of class, but this semester he wasn't able to get all the food prepared until the start of the second week. Before his class on Wednesday he would go to the Registrar's office to see how many students had dropped the class this time. Last year he had lost 8 students after food day, but this year he had a bigger class because of another science class being cancelled at the last minute. Some teachers used a scary syllabus to weed out the students who were just there to skate through an easy summer class; Gil used a scary syllabus and gourmet bugs. He did have a creative side to him, after all. Surprisingly, at least half the class had eventually tried something. Even the guy named Kendall had tried a cookie after prodding from his classmates. Unlike last year, this year Gil had remembered to keep the barf bags handy, so he was prepared when Kendall started retching.
He sighed as he looked at the disaster area that was his space for seven more weeks. When he had arrived at Berkley on Sunday afternoon, he had not been met with the best of news. The maintenance crew was painting the offices in the science building and he wouldn't be able to have any office space for two weeks. It didn't bother him that he wasn't able to hold office hours, most of the time the students that came to him early in the term really weren't looking help with the subject material, they were looking for a "couch-earned A" in his class. It might have flattered his male ego if they weren't so clumsy in their attempt to be coy or their assumption that he would be open to that type of…sliding grading scale. He knew enough not to consider having office hours in his living room. No need for them to read anything more into the situation and think he was inviting the unwanted advances.
No, what bothered him the most was the mess in his home-no matter how temporary. He was used to being able to store the dozen or so boxes filled with various visual aids and samples in an office rather than in the small living room. That had put him in a cranky mood Sunday night as he unloaded his minivan. Tripping over the boxes the next morning had bruised his elbow, his pride and reminded him how much he hated clutter. It was probably the reason he had goaded the student who arrived late to his class on Monday. He knew from the start she hadn't meant to slam the door, but the smell of stale beer emanating from her direction and reading her lips as she said the "fucking asshole" comment had caused him to snap. Obviously, the little princess had flunked Intro to Biology or some other rudimentary required science class and she was taking this one just to meet the basics for her Underwater Basket-Weaving Degree. He would bet 50 dollars she had originally signed up for Archeology.
Then, Little-Miss-Homecoming-Queen had tried to apologize. He hadn't been in the mood as she tossed her hair back and tried to look suitably sorrowful. Her comment about being a stiff had bothered him more than he let her know. Why would he give her the satisfaction? She probably hadn't worked a day in her life or had her hands dirty at any time. What would she know about speaking for those who couldn't? He had wanted to retort back to her statement with, "Do you actually eat with that filthy mouth, Miss Sidle?" But, he had taken the high road. He had taught long enough to know that it was tough for a teacher at any level to fight the inevitable whine of a student complaining to administrators, "He doesn't like me" as their primary defense for a bad grade.
He was sure she was cheating. He couldn't prove it yet, but today he had watched her closely during the quiz. She had partnered with Kendall in the lab assignment, who knew her from a previous biology class (probably that one she flunked) and he must have carried her somehow or she diligently copied his write-up on the experiment. That example he couldn't do anything about since everyone worked with partners. Eventually the teams would figure out they could just do one write-up and put both their names on it rather than turn in individual work. But the pop quiz she had aced-including the extra credit questions. He rifled through his briefcase and removed the quizzes from today's class. It had been a harder quiz since it was known beforehand and the class would have had all weekend to prepare. He reached for his glasses, which he still felt he was too young for at age 35 and pulled her quiz from the pile. He raised his eyebrows…another perfect score. He was certain she didn't have a crib sheet or answers written on her body. She hadn't rifled through her purse in search of a tissue (or any other object) during the quiz. No coughing or hand signals to anyone and she kept her eyes on her own paper. Maybe she was writing on her desk before he arrived at the classroom.
He shuffled through the Student Info cards and removed hers and read it again.
Name: Sara Sidle
Phone: 555-1412
Address: 221 Louis Street
Grade: N/A
Major: N/A
Expected Graduation Date: N/A
Advisor: N/A
Well, the ditz knew her name, phone number and address. At least if she was ever lost, she had a chance of finding her way home. Gil already had the following notes on her card: 5'9, cauc, F, late Day 1. 1st on Food Day. Next to that he wrote CHEATER??? Then he found Kendall Wright's card and wrote: 6'0, Blk, dreds, relig Xpork, regurg on food day. He had started making these notes from his very first class years ago. He only had eight weeks to get to know these 50 plus students and he found that if he wrote his notes immediately after class and read them immediately before class he was able to put names with faces much quicker.
Now, who was the smart-ass who made the card-carrying member comment? Mentally Gil went through the list of names of the students. Oh, that's right, Engvall, William Ray. 6'0, cauc, light brown hair, south. accent.