The H Cup!

Two weeks ago (week six of a sixteen week semester), a student that I had never seen before walked into my classroom just a few minutes before I was scheduled to indulge my insufferable penchant of prattling on before a captive audience. His opening line to me was, "Hi, I couldn't find the class for the first five weeks."

Part of me wants to end the story there, because I feel as though it packs a certain punch in its brevity that may be compromised by elucidating further. But whatever. I did not inquire as to how thoroughly the student actually looked for the class in those five weeks but one would have to assume that if he purposed within himself to search exactly one room a day during that time the odds alone would suggest that he'd meet some success. Providing, of course, that he was doing his searching on campus. But alas, we did not pursue that line of questioning as all I could think to say was, "I see. Well, I believe that I will have to speak with your advisor."

During the class break I went to the office of a professor who has served with the institution for a significant number of years and whose advice has been of some value to me throughout my embryonic teaching career. I explained the situation to her and she burst out laughing. Once she regained some of her composure, she advised me that it was the policy of the institution to automatically drop students that had missed the first two weeks of class. Amusingly, no one had told me about this policy until the third week and so I had not taken attendance at all during the first two weeks and therefore this student's enrollment had remained intact. The professor assured me that this sort of thing could be remedied retroactively but that the student should be advised that he would be dropped from the course. With that in mind I drafted what I believed to be a very encouraging but very firm email that informed the student of his situation.

One week ago (week seven of a sixteen week semester), the student that I had only seen once before showed up again in my classroom. Unsure of what else to do, I began class by reading the roll and taking attendance. Not hearing his name in the roll, the student raised his hand and inquired as to why his name had not been read to which I brilliantly responded, "Um. We'll need to speak at the break." When the aforementioned time had arrived I walked out into the hall with the student and, with all the poise and dexterity of a middle-school boy breaking up with his girlfriend of three days, said, "So, did you not check your email this week?" He informed me that he had not. At this juncture I very clumsily attempted to navigate my way around giving him the good news that he did not have to stay for the rest of class because he had been dropped. Looking quite crestfallen, he mumbled, "Oh. OK." and walked off. I felt mighty bad.

With still a few minutes left of the break, I walked back into the classroom and set myself at my desk with a heavy thump. It was what felt like less than a minute more before another person that I had never seen before walked into my classroom. This second person strode purposefully up to my desk and hovered over me as though he had something of the utmost secrecy to share: "You know that kid you sent out of here? Well, he seems really discouraged."

"Kid that I sent out of here?"

"Yeah, he seems really discouraged. I thought maybe if you sent him an email apologizing for dropping him--"

"I'm sorry, do you work here?"

"No. No, I'm a student, I just..."

I must having been channeling my perplexity somehow because at this point the fellow just stopped abruptly, raised his hands in deference, and strode out of the classroom with every ounce of the purpose and conviction with which he entered. Still, this was not before he left a small scrap of paper on my desk that read, "Apology. Early dismissal."

The account was and is fairly bizarre and I feel as though I may never fully understand exactly what the intent of the second student truly was. One thing that I neglected to mention earlier was that both the student that I dropped and the student that approached me on his behalf were red-headed men, with the former appearing to be roughly five years younger than the latter. My current theory is that the second red-headed man is actually the time-traveling version of the first red-headed man from the future. Clearly, this student wrote himself a note on a scrap of paper reminding him to come back and ask me for an apology once he had perfected his time-traveling technology. The only piece that doesn't make very much sense is how easily he seemed to give up after having gone through all that trouble. I suppose another piece that doesn't make very much sense is the fact that the future version of the student seems to have forgotten that his former version was not very much in the habit of checking his email anyway.

Tomorrow is Toulon's first Heineken Cup game of the season! They take on the Glasgow Warriors and I hope that I get the opportunity to watch the game; it's been a very exciting opening weekend so far with two sizable upsets already having taken place. Man, I love October.

-Ryan