Paperwork and Pictures
Police or Professor... There will always be paperwork. Jim Gordon is currently working on a pile several inches thick. Two hundred and fifty some odd finals. The scantrons he can run through a machine. The essays are a different story. He wonders why he didn't delegate this mess to the TAs. It would have made his life a lot easier. Next year, he tell himself.
He leans back in the chair and drops a fluncker on the desk. Amazing how many students think they can BS their way through an essay. He gives them what they deserve. If you want an "A" in Jim Gordon's class, you have to earn it.
His eyes fall on a picture of Barbara perched precariously behind the leaning stack. Mary is in her arms. Gordon shakes his head and smiles. The picture is close to four months old. His granddaughter has grown leaps and bounds. And he doesn't have any visual evidence to prove it.
The phone is to his left. He reaches for it and dials a familiar number.
He leans back in the chair and drops a fluncker on the desk. Amazing how many students think they can BS their way through an essay. He gives them what they deserve. If you want an "A" in Jim Gordon's class, you have to earn it.
His eyes fall on a picture of Barbara perched precariously behind the leaning stack. Mary is in her arms. Gordon shakes his head and smiles. The picture is close to four months old. His granddaughter has grown leaps and bounds. And he doesn't have any visual evidence to prove it.
The phone is to his left. He reaches for it and dials a familiar number.