Telling The Dean

Leila

“Good morning,” I greeted Dean Johnson confidently.

“Come on in.”

I tamped down on the butterflies in my belly. I wasn’t going to let him see how terrified I was. I schooled my features, keeping a smile on my face as I sat down, daintily crossing my legs and waiting for him to speak.

“Thank you for coming in today,” he started. “I was hoping we could have a conversation about what I saw yesterday.”

“What did you see yesterday?” I asked innocently.

He cleared his throat. “The embrace in your office.”

“Embrace?” I asked, wrinkling my nose. “The hug I gave a man who was struggling with something very private and very big? I always have an open door with my students. They know they can talk to me about things going on in their personal lives as well as questions about a class. Aren’t we supposed to be there for our students? Didn’t you recently hold a meeting and encourage us to be mentors and sources of support for our students?”

He nodded. “I suppose I did, but I don’t know what I