Chapter 2: Waiting, Anticipating...

The rest of the evening was predictable. Ms. Richards calmly cut David Winthrop into bite-sized pieces. Though she did not flinch from coarse language, the tenor of Ms. Richard’s discourse was detached, even clinical. Before long, she was providing David’s side of the argument, as if to save time. Were Elspeth not in a state of near shock, she might have appreciated the skill at argument. Instead, she drank in the aura of a higher authority.

When Ms. Richards rose from her stool and walked out of Elspeth’s life, it was as if the air was sucked out of the room. If anything, the next day was worse. David wanted another date but Elspeth could no longer take him seriously. It was not as if there was physical chemistry to buttress the relationship. After only two attempts, David Winthrop bestowed a few carefully chosen vulgar words to commemorate the breakup. The biggest hardship was the well-meaning questions about the relationship. David was ‘suitable’, with all that word’s baggage.

Holyoke was a relief. The familiar grind of classes and homework worked its magic. If the instructors seemed a bit slow, who could say why? If the dating opportunities seemed lacking, Elspeth was never popular. Eventually, weeks turned into months. Coursework and exams turned into grades, then a degree. Grades and applications turned into an admission to Dartmouth’s graduate school. No one in the family said so, but everyone hoped Elspeth could find something worthwhile to do. By then, wishing for a significant other, male or female, was too much to ask.

Hanover, New Hampshire was a significant change, even from South Hadley, Massachusetts. The small town had almost nothing Elspeth associated with civilization. In a sense, it was like summer camp. Still, she was not the only Bostonian at Dartmouth. She even encountered a summer cabinmate. Also, a college campus is a college campus. Before her first class, Elspeth was settled in.

The instructor was late. Almost five minutes after class was supposed to begin, a large, unkempt woman, with long black hair rushed through the door. She threw her bookbag on a chair and grabbed some chalk. On the board, she wrote: Sociology-521 Dr. Siobhan Richards. Elspeth watched with an icy lump growing in her gut. Before Dr. Richards turned to face the class, Elspeth was saying, “No way. No freaking way.”

It could have been worse. Elspeth had the anonymity of a group. Clearly, Dr. Richards remembered her. Just as clearly, she had never caught Elspeth’s name that night. No joy there. Elspeth’s full name was on the roster. Once the connection was made, Elspeth dreaded being singled out. She wasn’t.

Instead, Dr. Richards spent the first ten minutes discussing the book. She commented that there was a suggested readings list in the syllabus, then ignored it the rest of the period. On Wednesday, she never mentioned the book. On Friday, there was a quiz, half covering the lectures and half covering the readings. That set a pattern. A class might be lecture, Q&A, analysis of a study, whatever. The weekly quizzes covered it all and also the extensive reading. Even by Ivy League standards, the workload was harsh.