Many students from Inner City Community College are hoping to have careers in the health care field. A huge percentage of these hopefuls are trying to become nurses. It's a competitive field. Around here, you have to get an "A" in everything (including, alas, Composition) to have a shot at nursing school.
"Hannah, you have read the letter, now I'll print it out and place it into an official envelope and sign my name across the seal. That's the way they want it over at Inner City SLAC Nursing School." No, she assured me, they want her to staple it to the back of her application.
"Hannah----I've done lots of these. I'm pretty sure of how they want it. Why don't you call them?"
Hannah did not have their number. Could she use my computer to look it up? Visions of Hannah treating me one day in the ER flashed through my head. "No, Hannah, why don't you go out to the lounge, get into contact with them (I'm sure the number is somewhere in your paperwork) and give them a call." Hannah looked at me coldly. She was unimpressed with my lack of help. She and I had actually clashed about this before----with her accusing me of not being a good professor at one point when she felt I was not giving her enough help. I had forgotten just how much of a pain she actually was, and began wishing I had not written the letter. "Listen," Hannah told me. "This is due TODAY. This is my FUTURE and I want to get this DONE. Will you please just print it out?"
I kept my face absolutely expressionless. "Sure, Hannah. No problem." I printed it out, handed it to her, and even lent her my stapler. I fumed a bit as I watched her scurry across the grass toward IC SLAC's admissions building, and then promptly forgot all about Hopeful Hannah. My office hours were over, and I decided to leave the premises.
Today, I had a frantic message taped to my door. Could I please print out another copy of the letter, put it into the envelope and leave it taped to the door by the end of the day (left yesterday).