Professor Slakin
A short story
Professor Slakin’s grades had been systematically improving. His students’ grades, that is.
So impressive had his students’ performance become, seemingly all he had to do for his marking was to flip through the papers and scrawl an “A” grade on each one.
His students were fond of him. He was a capable teacher.
He poured his life into his work at the expense of everything else. He had no wife or children, no pets, no hobbies, no desires, no tastes.
One year before retiring, he was awarded the South East Teacher of the Year award. He smiled when he was given the news, but only on the outside.
The awards ceremony was a black-tie affair. He travelled into the city alone to attend the ceremony.
Five minutes before he was to be asked on stage, he realised he had forgotten his jacket. He looked down at his trousers and realised they were covered in food stains. He noticed something blurry hovering below his chin, perpetually hiding at the edge of his field of vision. He had grown a straggly beard, but he couldn’t remember having done so.
He found himself repulsed by his own appearance.
Then the announcement came.
He was too embarrassed to go on stage so he ran straight out of the large hall, knocking over a chair and bumping into several tables.
He found his way home, not before twice being mistaken for a homeless person.
University life carried on much the same after this incident. New students arrived. Old students graduated. The memory of Professor Slakin slowly faded.
He hadn’t been seen by any of his colleagues since the incident at the awards ceremony.
He had become a recluse. He ate rarely and cleaned himself never. He would write every day, scribbling into the evening.
There were rumours that he was working on a masterpiece of experimental fiction.
If one could gain access to his house, one would immediately see what he had really been working on.
The walls, ceilings, floors, furniture were all covered with the letter “A”, repeated thousands of times, varying in size, consistent in their ubiquity.
For him, this was his masterpiece. Unfortunately, though, it accurately represented the only idea that was left inside Professor Slakin’s head.
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