Chapter 1: The Professor

To: Prof. James Clark, Alan Turing Chair of Computer Science

Fm: Deborah Summer, Provost and Dean of Admissions

Re: Mentoring Assignments

Jim

Thank you for again volunteering to mentor entry-level students in the CS Department. I have a unique situation in that regard I’d like to meet with you about next Monday, August 4 at 1:00 p.m. in your office. I’ll have with me two prospective and highly unusual students about to start with us in the upcoming term. They’re almost as smart as you are. See what you think. This can help put the university on the map in your field in some unique ways, as you’ll see. RSVP.

Deb

To: Deborah Summer, Provost and Dean of Admissions

Fm: Prof. James Clark, Alan Turning Chair of Computer Science

Re: Mentoring Assignments

See you Monday as you suggest. You’ve got me curious.

Jim

My colleague Deb’s email piqued my interest. What could be ‘unusual’ and ‘unique’ about a couple of entry-level students? I’d mentored and advised various freshmen, upper classmen, and grad students every term for almost ten years. Most of my last pod of students had graduated, leaving me with only one sophomore who was the most resistive to assistance than any others I’d had since I started at the university ten years prior. The school’s philosophy was to offer help, but not force it on anybody. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make them drink.

As a mentor, my job was to help inspire the students about their overall academic and post-graduation career, and to try to infuse the spirit of lifelong learning in them. I also would try to help them obtain scholarship funds, internships, interesting summer jobs, and even permanent employment when I could, although that was often in concert with the overstressed university placement staff that was known for their poor batting average. As an advisor, my job was to ensure my students took the right courses, amassed the right number of credits, and guided them through their academic career to a diploma, hopefully four years after they started.

I prided myself that my office was not the stereotypical professor’s den of paper and journal storage. Part of that pride was the nature of the field I worked and taught in: Computer Science. The usual dusty piles of scholarly articles and magazines were absent except for a small neat pile of clipped articles near the scanner beside my desk, ready to be turned from paper to bits for digital storage in the cloud where I could access them from anywhere on multiple devices. I hated paper.

Miles of dusty bookshelves towering to the ceiling that the office’s predecessor indulged gave way in my newer office to a much smaller, modern, and neatly organized bookcase holding only a few key books in the field that weren’t readily available in digital form. The textbooks and articles I used to teach from were mostly available in online digital versions.

Missing too in my office were the dark leather-bound chairs with burnished brass tacks, a battered dark walnut desk, the tortured Oriental rug, the ragged curtains blocking out much of the exterior light, and a chalkboard with stubs of chalk and black felt eraser. In their place was a polished modern tile floor; a modern glass desk adorned with two computer screens, keyboard, mouse, mouse pad; modern and very comfortable chairs in decorator colors; modern window treatments, bright and colorful modern artwork I liked that I’d bought at various art fairs; and a simple a whiteboard with dry markers currently with a few reminders jotted on it. I could call up the contents of my whiteboard from any Internet device, read it, print it, and even erase it to leave new messages for my student teaching assistants or myself when I didn’t email it to them.

Just as some of my university colleagues clutched onto the fading backdrop of a university setting from decades or centuries earlier, I took every step I could to go to the other, newer, more modern extreme. I wanted the newest, technological, state of the art office I could create with the modest budget my department chair allowed me, plus what I chose to add to it of my own funds. My space age office was the result, some of the accoutrements purchased with my own funds. Thankfully, the university allowed me the flexibility to paint and modernize the physical space as I saw fit.

A few days after Deb Summer’s email, exactly at 1:00, as expected, she stepped into my open office door with a grin. She was attractive as always, yet professional; she was also probably my best friend. “Hi, Jim. You ready for our meeting?” Her smile brightened my day, as it usually did when I got to see her.

Deb and I had a special friendship because of various committees we’d been on at the university. She appreciated my continual push for modernization and use of technology, and we found we saw eye-to-eye on just about everything. Further, when my marriage had fallen apart, she and Doug, her husband, had remained steadfast friends to help me through that terrible year. On one of my worst days, Deb had hugged me while I cried a river of tears.

I rose from my desk and went to greet her with a polite hug. “Absolutely.” I glanced out my office door past Deb but all I saw in the hall were a couple of very young teen girls. I wondered if her students that she wanted me to mentor hadn’t shown up yet.

Deb came further into my office, turned, and gestured to the two adolescents in the hall. They came forward to the door and stepped inside, slightly on the shy side. My mind experienced a short circuit; things weren’t computing or adding up; something was wrong with this picture. I kept looking out the door for two older students that more typified freshmen or sophomores – my usual mentees.

Deb spoke, “Jim ... err, Professor Clark, I’d like to introduce Ashley Caldwell and Christine Czerny.” We did try to use more formal college jargon when we were in the presence of students.

I automatically reached forward and shook both girls’ hands, but still gave a glance over their shoulders into the hallway.

My six-foot frame towered over the much shorter girls. Ashley appeared to be a curvy brunette with long brunette hair pulled back in a long ponytail. Her green eyes could obviously be captivating and inviting. Christine was a slim blonde with hair in ringlets hanging down past her shoulders. Her blue eyes were engaging and friendly. Both made social remarks about how pleased they were to meet me in person. They both commented on my office and how they liked the décor and art.

Deb said, “These two girls were referred to me a few months ago by their high school guidance counselor. They’re classmates at one of the Regional High Schools out in Worcester County. They’re also both fourteen.”

I smiled benignly; still unsure of what role the university expected me to play with a couple of high school students; I thought about advising them on a science fair project or something of that ilk. I did a quick calculation and said, “Wouldn’t you be in eighth grade or middle school if you’re fourteen? That’d be junior high school.”

Both girls chuckled, “Yes, but ... well, we sort of skipped middle school,” Ashley politely offered.

Deb said, “They’ve also just about skipped high school, which is why they’re here with me today.”

I must have looked suitably puzzled that she continued.

“Christine and Ashley are probably the two smartest girls you will ever meet. They’ve all but tested out of high school, and that after virtually skipping middle school. They have their GED diplomas as of last May. They’ve excelled at every AP class the school has thrown at them since fourth grade, they’ve surpassed the independent study program their school system has thrown at them, taken a raft of courses at the community college that their high school arranged for them – but exhausted that source for challenging education; and now they’re about to be here as special students. They’ll be starting later this month here at the university, and probably taking a full course load of routine courses – routine at the junior level, except in your field. That’s where you come in. They want to major in computer science and engineering.”

An unearthly silence followed her explanation. I stared at both girls. Deb was not one prone to practical jokes, but the possibility crossed my mind.

I repeated aloud what I’d just learned, “Two fourteen year old girls – two VERY smart teenage girls – want to major in computer science and engineering starting in three weeks at my university because they’ve blown through their own school system and that of their local junior college ... and I’m being asked to mentor and advise them.” My tone had been flat and neutral.

Deb pressed on with a smile, pleased that I understood; “Exactly. Jim, you’re the most innovative teacher at the college ... AND you specialize in their area of interest. They’ve surpassed most of the freshmen and sophomore classes and are ready to move into junior or senior classes, including those in their major. We have some placement tests arranged regarding the standard freshman and sophomore classes between now and when classes start to verify and give credit for the classes they’ve moved past. Those of us who have met the girls believe they’ll test out of all those standard classes – English, history, poly sci, chemistry, basic physics, and the basic math courses required in engineering.”

I blurted out, “Just how are your math skills?”

Christine said in an adult tone, “Well, we’ve been through calculus, differential equations, matrix theory, logic and set theory, statistics, and two online metrizability theory and topology theory courses. If I say so myself, either Ash or I could have done a better job at teaching any of them.” Her answer wasn’t flip, but matter of fact.

Ashley added, “We really like all the math courses. They’ve been fun, but we want to get into something where we can use that theory in a more applied form; that’s why we choose engineering and computer sci.”

My brain rattled slightly with her response. I fired back, “Why computer science?”

Ashley responded in a firm and decisive tone, “We’re both interested in AI – artificial intelligence. The foundations for that are not only mathematical on the many fronts that AI makes up, but also depend on a whole cross-section of other disciplines that cut across traditional university department lines. We can see it’s the wave of the future in many fields and at the hub of it all is computer sci. We looked at various schools and read a lot of the papers by various faculty, and you topped out as probably the one person who is extending deeper into the AI arena than anybody else in this hemisphere.”

Deb stepped in, “They actually picked YOU as opposed to the university, since artificial intelligence and related engineering are your specialties.” She made sure to inflect her words so I wouldn’t miss the flattering implications. I saw her wink at me, but the girls didn’t see her flirt. I loved to flirt with Deb, but would do nothing to upset her relationship with Doug – who I also liked a great deal.

“And, I would help them, how?” As I spoke I was still reacting internally to the fact that two smart fourteen-year-old girls even had a field of college study ... and that it apparently overlapped with my interests and research in some way.

Deb went on, “If you accept, you will be their mentor and faculty advisor. You’d shepherd them through college to their graduation and probably beyond in grad school. I’m told these two are like sponges for knowledge, and further they each retain most of what they learn. They also are highly motivated, unlike ninety percent of the others we run across here. They are truly adult in their outlook and interactions. These are not dippy-headed fourteen year olds. I will also be helping them get to their graduations in a speedy way.”

The two teens blushed slightly at Deb’s remarks, but nodded in agreement with what she said. The more I looked at them, the more I was taken with how cute they were and how they were a mix of early teen and adult demeanors. This might be a fun assignment, especially if they were motivated students.

After a pause, I tentatively said, “They’d be a full-time responsibility, unless I’m missing something.” What Deb proposed was the combination of advisor and mentor roles at the school on two high profile students; something that, to my knowledge, had seldom been done before. Having one would be a challenge, but two of them would be over the top. Further, since the girls were working in MY area of study, I could imagine I’d be tutoring them much of the time on independent study projects. I wondered whether they were really up to the task of being halfway through a major university with tough grading hurdles and classroom competition or that they were much beyond the high school science fair level of interest in AI.

Deb said in a more official tone, “Yes, I know. I’d like you to divest your other students to some of the others in the department. I can help with that. Unfortunately, we can’t offer you a break on your teaching load and I know you count on your consulting to augment the fabulously and outrageously high salary the school provides, and this might get in the way of those activities. Nonetheless, this is a rare opportunity.”

Deb and I laughed at her sarcasm. The truth was that education at any level was usually one of the lowest paid professions given what one had to go through to qualify for the positions.

I studied the two young girls. They were conservatively but youthfully dressed with Ashley showing more skin than Christine because of the deep scoop neck summery blouse she wore, but not by too much of a scandalous amount. They were both easy on eyes, as my father often said of pretty women.

“Deb, leave Christine and Ashley with me for an hour. I want to interview them. We’ll come over to your office afterwards and I’ll have an answer for you.” I could be assigned the girls, but I tried to preserve the charade that I had some choice in the matter.