Bright and early on Tuesday morning, Jenny let the front door to Stansfield Hall slam behind her as she headed toward the dean’s office. As suspected, her adviser, Ms. Rose, had told her she needed to get permission directly from the dean if she wanted to work on her own. Now she just needed to convince him she was justified. The administrative building was silent except for the muffled sound of music and the hissing of the old metal radiators. The wet bottoms of Jenny’s dark green Wellies squeaked against the waxed wooden floors. For the first time, she wondered if teachers appreciated Jan Plan as much as students. After all, they didn’t really have to teach classes, just look in on their advisees and occasionally lead an independent study. Did teachers have their own parties? she suddenly wondered, trying to picture Ms. Rose standing around a keg with the anal Latin teacher, Mr. Gaston. Or doing body shots. Ew. Shaking that disturbing image from her mind, she marched toward the new dean’s door.
