A young Chinese woman sat in front of his desk in one of the guest chairs. She folded her legs nervously under the seat, revealing the top band of her knee high stockings. A look of befuddlement on her innocent face confirmed that Butler had been entertaining her with his self-centered monologues.
“Hello, Katherine,” the professor began animatedly, “This is Chen Xue. She’s a graduate student in the Textile Science department.”
I shook the girl’s tentative hand, smiling politely and wondering what she was doing in Butler’s office.
“My grant was approved, Katherine,” he informed with a big pompous grin.
“Congratulations, sir,” I offered, pleased that my literature searches somehow contributed to the professor’s first academic success.
“Couldn’t have done it without your library work,” he added quickly, acknowledging my contribution. “Now I need you again, Katherine.”
“How can I help, Dr. Butler?” I inquired assuming he meant to assign assistantship duties.
Butler stretched in his chair, removing his glasses and tossing them down haphazardly. Chen Xue caught the spectacles before they could skitter off the desktop and fall into her lap. “Well, Chen will be handling the textile science part of the study for her master’s degree. I would like you to consider the consumer psychological angle for your doctorate.”
The project involved laboratory analysis and consumer perception of safety issues related to children’s sleep and play apparel; not exactly my area of interest.
“But, sir,” I began uncomfortably, “I planned to work on the bridal study.”
“Katherine, I hope you will reconsider. You can always save your personal interests for your own professorship. If you accept this project, your assistantship salary will be based on your own research. Otherwise, I will have to assign assistantship responsibilities to you; and your bridal study will not be funded, meaning you will have to do it on your own time,” Butler explained in no uncertain terms. He went on to describe the grant project and outline other advantages including my familiarity with the topic from the summer’s literature searches and the fact that I could recycle those efforts when writing my dissertation. Plus I would benefit from interdisciplinary collaboration with Chen Xue and members of the textile science faculty.
“May I have some time to think about it?” I asked finally.
“Of course, Katherine. This is an important decision. But get back to me within a couple of weeks. Other students will be interested, and I wanted to give the option to you first.”
I nodded despondently.
Clive Butler smiled warmly, “Maybe you and Chen should get to know each other,” he suggested.
So, I invited Chen Xue down to the lab to share a soda with me.
“How long have you been at Carolina Tech, Chen?” I asked pouring soda into two Styrofoam cups.
“Please call me Xue. In China we say the family name first,” she explained, undoubtedly too intimidated by Dr. Butler to correct him, but willing to deal with me as an equal.
“I’m sorry, Xue.”
“I just arrive last month from China.”
“Oh, I hope you are settling in well.”
“Yes, Katherine, I am very happy.”
“And call me Kate. Only Dr. Butler calls me Katherine, and my parents when they are angry.”
Xue giggled. “Your professor, he like to talk. He talk a lot, all about himself.”
I laughed so hard, the beverage almost fizzed out my nostrils. Chen Xue may have been new to the United States, but she recognized a load of crap when she heard it.
Embarking on my fourth semester of doctoral study, only a couple of classes remained on my list of requirements, neither of which was being held that afternoon. I slipped out of the lab early and headed home to change into skating clothes and contemplate my options on the ice. Stroking determinedly around the little surface, I thought about the bridal consumer study that inspired my quest for higher education. Working at the bridal salon in Sacramento seemed infinitely long ago. I had not been in a wedding boutique since I left that job to move to Virginia three years before. Wearing a diamond ring on my finger, the reality of engagement no longer remained mysterious and idyllic. That ring did not suddenly transform me into a more responsible, successful or focused woman. I still did not know what I wanted to do with my life, which may have been the actual reason behind my pursuit of higher education. I needed more time to explore possibilities and prove to myself that I possessed special talents as well as the ability to excel academically. Studying brides did not hold the same fascination as when I admired their organized lives and idealistic relationships from afar. Although I still designed occasionally, I had not even taken the time to prepare initial sketches of the gown I might make for my own marriage ceremony.
I took a break to re-lace my rental boots and watch the three sisters who essentially filled the tiny rink with their double jumps. One girl practiced spins with textbook proficiency rising into a camel position utilizing the advanced
“You look like a lady with a lot on her mind,” Pete began sitting down at my table.
I smiled at the man and actually told him about my predicament with Dr. Butler, his grant research, and the study that I wanted to perform. Having spent his life as a professional skater, Pete had little experience with academic matters and probably did not comprehend the magnitude of doctoral research. Yet, he had something to say about the subject.
“When I was younger, I loved to skate. I skated all day, sometimes ten or twelve hours on a rink that was often so crowded the average person could barely move. But I became so quick and skillful on my edges that I could weave around the recreational skaters until I found an opening to do an axel or some other trick. I’d finish the jump and stop short on the landing edge only inches from another skater. I worked as a rink guard, at the snack bar, and drove the Zamboni. When I could not get a rink job, I worked at night waiting tables to pay for ice time and lessons. I did whatever I had to do to support my skating habit. Even after I turned professional and skated with the chorus in ice shows, I had to accept second jobs to make ends meet. Pro skaters don’t get paid much without amateur titles, and I never won anything because I learned to skate too late and didn’t master compulsory figures.
“The point is, Kate,” Pete continued, “if you want to do this study badly enough, you will make the necessary sacrifices. You will do whatever job the university gives you to earn a living then work all night on your own passion, if that is what you truly want.”
The problem was that I no longer knew what I wanted. My interests changed in the years since undergraduate school, sewing my first skating dress, and working in the bridal shop. Bridal research no longer seemed important enough to justify working myself into the ground. It would also require forfeiting otherwise available afternoons and evenings that I currently spent at the Arctic Circle. Like Pete, I learned to ice skate relatively late in life. If I had any passions at all, they involved skating.
I waited until the next week to tell Dr. Butler about my decision to accept his grant project. All I really wanted from Carolina Tech at that point was a diploma enabling me to earn a respectable living. Ready to close the educational chapter of my life, I dove immediately into the children’s apparel study, always reserving enough time everyday to skate for a couple of hours at the Arctic Circle.
The telephone rang in the laboratory, and I was surprised to hear Dr. Butler calling me to his office. I usually visited him so frequently that he never had to request my presence. Anxious to discuss whatever intellectually stimulating topic spawned his phone call, I hurried up the stairs.
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