The Speed of Understanding

Bleary-eyed, a lone woman sat, barely focused on the endless pages that lied in front of her. Her hand moved nigh-automatically from one number to the next: circle, circle, circle, big X, little x, circle, circle, line and arrow, question mark, the word ‘why’ and finally a 65% with a big, red circle around it. ‘Good work.’

Circle, circle, circle, circle, circle, really big X, circle, 90%.

Circle, little x, little x, little x, circle, really big circle, long line and the words ‘you missed a step,’ 35%.

The lone woman let go of a sigh, glancing up at the clock once again. She’d been sitting at that desk 3 hours after her classes had finished, yet a sizeable stack of papers remained, piled up and held in place with 3 textbooks and a paperclip. Even the weather had decided that her day would be miserable. It rained, wind whistling between the cracks of the leaky window, trapping cold air in the small, poorly ventilated room. The heater worked overtime to try to keep up with the demands, and the room smelled of burnt dust.

The remains of the scuffle between Glenn and Harvey still had to be cleaned up; the janitor wouldn’t be by until the day after tomorrow. It surprised this woman just how similar college students were to high school kids. They were just as rowdy and twice as stupid. At least this fight had been over someone’s honor. A plain, yellow sticky note that had already started to peel from the edge of her desk read ‘send report to dean before you leave.’

Her phone, silenced, had at least 20 messages waiting for her that she ignored. She was going to be in the dark room long enough without distractions. So, with a long drink from her diet soda, she gathered just enough energy to keep drawing circles, Xs, lines, and numbers.

Circle, circle, circle, circle, circle, circle, circle, 100%.

Big X, big X, big X, really big X, facepalm, question mark, long line reaching around the whole page and pointing at a single word with further instructions, sigh, small x, circle, 15%, ‘come see me.’

Big X, circle, circle, circle, long scribble across the page from when she had dozed off the first time, circle, X, circle, 70%.

A full hour and a half had passed before the stack of papers had been marked. Her chair squealed beneath her as she leaned back in the old, stained and aging faux leather chair that had been her companion since she’d started her job at Unila College. It had grown increasingly comfortable with each passing year.

Setting the pen down, she closed her eyes, telling herself it would only be for a moment. She didn’t believe it, but she also couldn’t bring herself to care.

She bolted awake as someone called her name. “Mona!”

“I’m here! I got all the grading done! Sorry! I’m leaving now,” she blurted out, reaching for her handbag.

It wasn’t there.

Instead, a backpack and the sound of laughter surrounding her from all sides. Semi-familiar faces whispered amongst each other between chuckles and snickers.

“Welcome back, Mona. Now, can you please read chapter 3 for us?”

Her head reeled, attempting to reconcile the two realities. “Sorry, Ms. Hoffenstar,” she said, wiping a small puddle of drool from her copy of ‘Eternal Hearts of War’ by Jordie R. Gion. It had been so long since she’d read that book.

She read the passage nearly perfectly, including her best interpretation of the voices and tones of each character in their situations. Ms. Hoffenstar nodded with approval, and the next reader was chosen.

Class came to an end, and Mona picked up her backpack—it weighed so much—and with a hint of strain, set it on her back as her thoughts swirled about in her head.

“That dream I had had had been far too real,” she whispered to herself under her breath as she walked, eyes to the floor and vision threatening to swim away in circles. The chirping and hawking of students had faded into background noise. With her dream still fresh in her mind, she stretched her legs, glad they didn’t ache. She absolutely did not like being old, and that job: endlessly marking papers; what could even possess her to take that kind of job.

“Mona!” one of her friends called out to her, slipping her arm into Mona’s.

Mona smiled, a bright beacon. “Aubrey!”

The friends embraced and continued on their way. “Mona, are you still good with helping me study?”

“Of course! Where do you want to go?”

Aubrey made a show of considering her options. “My place!”

The girls giggled. “Your parents okay with that?”

Aubrey nodded and bumped her friend. “What about your parents?”

Parents. Of course. Those were things she had and needed their permission for these kinds of things. She reached into her pocket, searching for her little pocket computer. Instead, she found a stick of gum, 35 cents in nickels, and an eraser on its last legs. Pocket computers. What strange things dreams would come up with.

The two girls found their ways, with permission of course, to Aubrey’s house where they say and spread out the textbooks and assignments all across the table. “Okay, so I think I need help with science. Mr. Turpence says stuff, and I have no idea what he’s even trying to say. I mean, I know the words he’s saying, but when he puts them together, they sound like UFO broadcasts.”

“I can help with science! It’s my favorite subject. What’re you struggling with?”

Aubrey slid over the Science 9 textbook, already open to page 24: motion.

“I get that stuff moves, you know, but that’s where I start to get completely lost.” Aubrey imitated Mr. Turpence’s voice. “Stuff moves, you know. If it weren’t for the aliens picking stuff up with their tractor beams, everything would stay still.”

Laughter erupted between them. “That sounded just like him!”

“Okay, but here,” Mona pointed at a particular diagram with adjacent equations,” rather, what do you understand about this part here?”

Aubrey hesitated. “Uhh, honestly? Those just look like letters and numbers, and I don’t get what any of them mean.”

Mona pulled out a notebook, a pen, and a pencil, paused, then grinned. This was a demonstration she would be able to show her future students. She found a pair of baseballs and set them both on the floor.

“What are you doing, Mona?” Aubrey asked, peeking over her friend’s shoulder.

“Just watch.” She pushed the first ball gently. It rolled lazily across the wooden floor, stopping gently against the wall. She then gave the second baseball a shove that sent it bouncing wildly off the wall.

“Which one went faster?” Mona asked her friend.

“The second one, obviously.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s faster?”

Mona laughed a gentle laugh that she’d spent years honing; a laugh that showed humor in the answer and not the person. “Almost. Think about how long it took.”

“Oh!” That was it. That was the sound she’d missed. The sound of a spark making that jump from one idea to the other: a connection. “It was faster because it got there quicker.” She hesitated as that same spark leapt from one to the next to yet another. It was a masterwork painting made one brush stroke at a time.

Mona’s encouragement with an expectant smile drew the answer right out of Aubrey’s head and into her mouth. “It was faster because it took less time to go just as far!” Not only the sound of one spark finding another, but the gasp of joy that accentuated the gap-tooth smile and the sparkled that danced in Aubrey’s emerald eyes.

Taking advantage of that energy, Mona returned Aubrey’s attention to the book. “Here. Velocity just means speed. It shows how fast something is going based on,” she paused, expectantly.

That spark still jumped about from one neuron to the next, making the final, most important connection. “It’s based on how much time it takes to go from one place to another?”

“Yes! How must distance, see the letter ‘d’ here?” Once she received the nod of understanding, Mona continued. “How much distance can it can go in a certain amount of time. See the letter ‘t’ here?”

The next nod was enthusiastic. “Wait! Like miles per hour? Like with cars? How fast you go is—” she gasped as the world clicked into place.

Mona say back and watched her friend do a small dance of excitement before settling back down in her chair to help her friend tackle the first of the assignments.

Mona gasped, nearly toppling out of her chair as she woke with a start. The cold mug of coffee that had been sitting precariously on the corner of her desk wobbled and chattered against the hardwood surface. A sliver of moonlight shone in through the haze that came after rain. It flickered and shimmered on the floor. The stack of graded papers sat in their proper bin, the email to the dean open and ready to send.

In a solemn moment of gratitude, she clicked send and gathered up her things, squared off the bins at her desk. Then, with new ideas and lessons bouncing about in her head, walked out of the door to the sound of Aubrey’s excitement.