"The thing is...the thing is, my test--it was today--but. Last night? I don't know what it was. I don't...some kind of food poisoning. I was--look, I was throwing up for, like...for like five hours. I threw up for five hours last night. And so. So. If I could talk to...potentially a doctor. I mean, to get out of the test."
This kid was rambling. Holding a peach skateboard. Built and tone, hip tank, but today scared. Poor guy. I'm just a dumb proctor. I can't ordain a retest. I talked to my supervisor. Okay, we decided. Okay, I will leave the office. I will walk across campus with this kid to his professor's class.
Today was gorgeous. Greens, a windy bluster. But this kid, this kid staring down was all, "What are the odds? I mean, I haven't been sick all semester. And...and now I'm late. I'm sure they hear this all the time, but I really really was sick." Poor, poor kid. We made a game plan. "Should I be next to you?" I asked. "Or should you ask alone?" We decided I would wait by the door. And I hear from down the hall, the kid saying the same word vomit about vomit. And the professor going "Yeah. Yup. Okay. Yeah. Okay?" Long long pause. Professor: "So, what? You wanna take it Monday?" Subtext: "This is Physics 102. I don't GD care when you take this dumb exam." I walked out, we chose a new time. The professor shrugged.
The kid WAS the sunshine. "I can't believe it!" He said over and over. "That was easy!" I agreed. "You know when you cram the night before? I didn't get to cram. I mean, I was going to fail."And he was a flurry with "So, what's your program? How do you like Arizona?" And we were a happy little two-let on the sidewalk. Because a tiny bit of grace goes such a long way.