The Student (or, Technically)

If you know me at all, you might think that The Student is a name that could hold some potential. The Student might imply intellect, someone with scholarly pursuits who may value education as much as I do. Someone who could be a quality "match" (pardon the lame attempt at an online dating pun). Unfortunately, The Student did not earn his name for these reasons. He is so named because he is, in fact, my student. Now let me be clear before I continue: I did not go on a date with The Student. However, special circumstances (by special, I mean ABSURD) lead me to feel obligated to include him in this blog.

The story of The Student begins early in the online dating experience. While perusing my matches on my iPad (not a product placement, I swear - important detail because the pictures are tiny), I cynically noticed that one of the men recommended to me by the match.com brains used a photo of himself with his arm around a grandma-like figure (a family man - well played). His tactic was effective. I was about to click to learn more when I saw his screen name. Hmmm, familiar name. Where do I know that -- OH SHIT. The name was familiar because I had just graded his quiz.

After a substantial panic attack during which I temporarily convinced myself that I was going to lose my teaching position, I regained my ability to think rationally and decided to pretend it never happened. Unfortunately, match.com has a little feature that allows you to see who has looked at you, so you can probably imagine (given the theme of this blog) that The Student wasn't going to let that go on for long.

Fast forward a couple of days and you'll find me at the local sports bar with my dear friend (to respect his privacy, he'll be known as Belt Buckle [I apologize for the use of an unexplained inside joke here, but all I can say is payback is a bitch, Buckle]). We decided to indulge ourselves with some bar food and football (season opener!) and were doing just that when Belt Buckle excused himself to use the facilities. Immediately, with Seal Team 6 stealth, The Student swooped in and thus began one of the more awkward moments of my life. He's what we call a 'non-traditional' student. In other words, he's about 30, and somehow he thinks this gives us something in common (it does NOT). Gaining confidence from this supposed common ground, he proceeded to execute what the undergraduate youts would call "spitting game." Dumbfounded, I sat there and let The Student do his best to engage me about my sports teams (original, buddy) and what I like to do in my free time (clearly, come to the bar and be hit on by my students of course!). Upon Belt Buckle's return, I introduced them as brusquely as I could with the small hope that The Student (who clearly struggled with social cues) would cease and desist. Instead, he dropped the line of the night when he said to Belt Buckle: "I guess technically, I'm her student." Technically? Technically. No, NOT technically. Which is exactly what I said to him. Sorry, Student, there's no technically involved here... You're my student.

I wish that was the end of The Student's role in this story, but given that I see him three times a week and am partially responsible for his education (sidenote, he's a pretty exceptional student) an end is not in sight. Some highlights since the first encounter:

• At the conclusion of class on a Friday he yelled across the classroom, "So am I going to get to see you at the bar again this weekend?"
• While standing far too close to me after class one day, he conspiratorially whispered that it's good we can go to the bar where we had our 'run in' because it's nice to "get away from these kids" and be around people "our age"

So what's the Lesson Learned here? It's one of caution. Caution to ensure my actions or words are not misinterpreted (and perhaps caution to ensure that Belt Buckle never leaves me alone in a packed bar where men who are "technically" my students feel it is acceptable to hit on me).