Evaluation Day in the Middle of Finals Week

Administering a Final is exhausting, I can’t help but think as I make my way out. If I had more than three of these a year, I’m not sure how I’d manage. I make my way off campus, to a small restaurant that I lunch at most days I’m not working, just teaching. I have to get my lunch in rather quickly, as I set my evaluations meeting with my advisees for the two hour period between the eleven o’clock and the late afternoon finals. Josh and Zoe, who are my only two advisees that decided to take over-full schedules whose classes all have final exams, will have to bring their lunch. But that’s better than waking up early on an already busy day, in my opinion. Everyone else is likely either eating their lunch now, like me, or planning on eating after the meeting.

As I nod politely to the servers and head to my normal table, I can’t help but be confirmed in my suspicions, seeing Andreas, another of my advisees, sitting on the terrace. I leave him be, as he seems lost on a train of thought that I’m not interested in disturbing, and seat myself, ordering the same lunch I order every week. Dario, my server today, is surprised to see me and remarks, “Is it Friday already?”

“Non, Monsieur,” I reply politely, shaking my head. “Finals week.”

He nods, understanding and heading into the back. I pull out my notebook. One last day to focus on my thesis, before I have to return to my vacation mind of dealing with political nonsense. There’s a meeting of a couple Towers next week, so I have to be in Venice before it begins, which means I need to leave… I cut off that line of thinking. Not until tomorrow. Today, it’s thesis time, tomorrow it’s a day of grading and planning. I begin to flip open my notebook of nonsense scrawled messily, with several sections struck through with a single line. Still readable, I never cross anything out in such a way that I can’t go back and see the mistakes. Independently, it all works fine, but in combination the costs aren’t adding up to what they should be in theory. Which means there is something missing somewhere along the math. Where remains the issue. Looking at the last experimental failure, I begin to map out my next test, trying to fit the data to the expected curve, then work out a test that has different proportions of costs but similar scale. At some point, while I’m scribbling ideas, my meal comes. Dario threw in an espresso, which is appreciated. I begin to eat, still writing out the math for each idea to determine the theoretical cost-draws from each pool. As I finish my food and take my first sip of the espresso, I finally have something that is of comparable scale to the prior test. Slightly more costly, but within a reasonable amount, and as a bonus, this one probably won’t cause a forest fire like the one before last. I pull out my dayplanner, to flip ahead. These next couple months are pretty busy, I’ll probably have to squeeze the tests in between the PMC and the Marseille Covens’ Heart-Binding Ceremony if I want to get the hypothesis checked prior to next semester. I write it in pencil in the day planner, fully knowing it is liable to change if anything comes up. After all, my vacations are not truly my own, at least not always.

Finishing my espresso, I pay, making sure to thank Dario. “Your hospitality is always appreciated,” I inform him.

He smiles. “It was the least we can do,” he insists, “Besides, you seemed busy. Even busier than usual.”

I shrug. “Finals week,” I half joke as I head out. I make my way back onto campus. In Muddy River, both Sierra and Amanda held their advisor meetings in the Library. But I don’t like the feeling of our campus library here. The first year, I held them there mostly because I didn’t realize that wasn’t the norm. I have since moved our meetings to the rooftop terrace of the student center. It’s got gardens, fresh air, tables, and reminds the kids that this isn’t nearly as formal as a class. As I make my way over, Amanda waves as she’s heading across the campus in a perpendicular direction. “Evals?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I answer with a shrug, “Any idea about our contracts being reupped next year?”

She looks at me with a smirk. “Our contracts? Some of us don’t have a year to year.”

“Yeah,” I joke back, “But some of us don’t have to work over the summer.”

“Not work when you enjoy it,” she remarks.

“You say that,” I counter, “But I enjoy most of what I do, and yet it still feels like work every morning when I have to drag myself out of bed.”

She goes to counter, then notices the time. “Sorry, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a meeting to get to at the collider offices, finish, and be back here in time to administer the Theoretical Physics final.”

“No problem,” I reply, “See you tomorrow for a grading party?”

She smiles. “Sure thing,” she adds as she heads away northwards.

I shake my head. It’s a coin flip whether or not she shows tomorrow. Depends on how her meeting goes, I’d guess. But that’s not today’s problem. Today’s problem is that I’m going to be late to the meeting I organized. Not a great look for a Magister. I hurry down the path and through the student center. In the stairwell, I see Demi walking casually ahead of me. She notices me as I start to slow down to try to avoid attention. “Magister Ike,” she says with a grin, “You’re running late.”

“Shut up,” I shoot back, knowing exactly where this is going.

“You know, being rude just before I get a whole page worth of space to complain seems a poor decision,” she shoots back.

“You say that like anyone reads it.”

“Are you saying no one reads our evals?” she asks, the same question as she always asks when I bring the idea up. She thinks I’m being less than truthful with my answer.

I, just as I always do, answer in full earnest. “As far as I’m aware, no one cares what you write but you and the devil.” My phone silently buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it, I know what she texted without looking. Something about stop calling me the devil, or the like. How she’s so quick at the trigger when she, too, should be dealing with finals week, I don’t know. It’s irritating as all shit, though.

“So you don’t read them?” she presses. This is why she thinks I’m not telling the whole truth. I seem to know whenever anything significant is written down in them. Because of the devil scolding me about my flaws and offering suggestions. But I’m not about to irritate Ter by blowing up her spot.

“Never even checked to see if you complete the packets,” I answer honestly.

She shakes her head. “Last chance to be honest with me, after all, I don’t need to go through this next year,” she correctly points out.

“I’m always honest,” I counter as we reach the rooftop door, “You just never ask the interesting questions.” I hold it open for her. Most of my advisees are here. Zoe seems irritated that I’m not already ready. She’s probably just stressed about his next final, I want to say it’s horticulture or hemoculture or technoculture. Some kind of culture. All interesting topics, none of which are particularly easy to study for. Demi shakes her head, heading towards the group, waving at Josh and Isa who are both already there. I check my phone. Sure enough, a text from Ter. ‘remember to switch up insults. shes smart enough to figure it out if she thinks abt it’ Ter is right, of course. But Demi will assume I’m joking or misleading her before she thinks I have a friend that I call the devil, and worse names, frequently who spies on I think literally everyone.

I make my way to the advisees. As I do, Andreas makes their way up through the door. “Sorry I’m late,” he says, before pausing and realizing I’m not ready and he’s not the last one here. “Wait, where’s Minna?”

“Later than either of us,” I say. “Before Evals, everyone have plans for the summer?”

The pair of new freshman Apprentices look nervous, so Josh speaks up, a bite of salad actively in his mouth. “Maestro Glas has me working the PMC for him,” he says, “But before that, I’m going to be here trying to help convince our illustrious great maestro to expand Glas’s, and by extension your, budget.”

“As a broke Magister, it is appreciated. But far from necessary. Anyone else want to share.”

Demi shrugs. “Not particularly,” she insists, “Girls trip.”

Zoe, still irritated at me, looks up. “Just you two, or can Minna and I join in?”

From behind me, with a whisper’s timbre at a normal speaking volume, Minna reveals her presence with a simple, “Are my ears itching?”

“You’re late,” I say.

She walks in and sits down at a table beside Zoe. “You haven’t handed the evals out yet,” she counters.

I shake my head. “Summer plans?”

“I have that internship in Hamburg, so no partying for me.” Then, after a pause, she smirks, “Well, no partying with any of you guys.”

Zoe shakes her head. “You’re no fun, Minna,” she jokingly complains. Demi and Isaline exchange looks before Isa says, “You can come along for the first half, kid. But you best have something else planned for the end of July and beginning of August.”

Zoe smiles. “Thanks.”

I look over at the others. “That’s all the Lady’s summers, what about you two?”

Noel shakes his head. “Just heading back home,” he replies in French, “Nothing special.”

Andreas smiles. “Staying here, working at the corner shop for the summer,” he replies.

I smile. “Well, having plans is good. For some of you more than others, remember to think about the next steps while you’re galavanting.” I make sure to make eye contact with Isaline as I say this. Demi will probably be thinking too much about the future on her own, and Josh is up to something with his internship, but Demi’s general vibe of mixing business with pleasure is likely to distract Isa from the future, especially with Zoe around keeping them constantly busying themselves with entertainment. Demi shakes her head at me in judgement, but understands. I wait to hear if there are any responses, but no one says anything. “Alright then,” I move on, “Today, as some of you are aware, is evaluations day. The glorious day where you guys get to judge me in my advisorness.” I start handing out the forms. “It’s three pages, fill it out in its entirety and in earnest. Be as harsh or honest as you wish, I do not read them. In theory, they’re read by admin and by my thesis panel, but between us, everyone who actually has been on a panel or worked in admin admits they only look at the numbers. That said, I do encourage you to actually think about the questions and answer thoroughly, if only so you can know what you feel you want me to work on in the future and then can talk to me about it next year. A reminder, I do not have office hours this week, you can reach out if it’s an emergency but understand I likely will not be available in person any time between tomorrow even and a week before next semester begins.”

Everyone begins working on their evals. For Andreas and Minna, they seem almost surprised by the brevity of it. After all, like my own class, they had the misfortune of starting with the excessively long self-eval. The first to finish, however, was Zoe. As she hands the thin packet to me, she says, “Sorry, I took down all the questions and will think about them more in depth, but I need to get to lunch.” That explains the lack of food.

“Not a problem,” I reply, “As I said, I’m not going to read it.” I give her a polite smile as she leaves. Josh, on the other hand, is taking his sweet time, shoveling his salad into his face between every sentence. Minna and Andreas finish around the same time. Then Demi, then Isaline.

Noel comes up, handing in his eval, and asks, “Is it alright if we run through my schedule for next semester after this? I don’t have an afternoon final.”

“Sure, but it’ll have to wait for Josh.”

From the table, Josh jokes, “Don’t rush me, or I’ll give you a bad grade,” his mouth somehow still full of salad.