#also don't come for me for any math corrections i never took finite

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

Okay okay okay

Hear me out

41. you know what, maybe they ARE tired of being nice. maybe they DO wanna go apeshit. And Davenport lol

He should be able to go a little apeshit, as a treat :)

He does deserve to go apeshit!!! From this prompt list! (still accepting!!)

Working in academia for a while tends to earn you a reputation. You could be known as the hard ass, the professor who’s little more than a brick wall that reads off of powerpoint slides, the professor who’s entirely too willing to spill every single detail on why their marriage failed, or even the professor who is abysmally unhelpful to anyone not interested in their research. Through no active attempts of his own, Dr. Davenport has earned the reputation of having the patience of a saint. Even students who’ve never had a class with him, who would have no reason to have a class with him, sing his praises; Rockport University’s a small campus, word gets around.

Davenport never intended to be put upon a pedestal like that, he was just doing his job and doing what he could for his students. He wasn’t one to balk at an assignment turned in a day late, wouldn’t demand a litany of excuses and documentation for a missed class, just an email to let him know the student was doing okay. He was notorious for bringing in snacks on midterm and final days. If his lectures bordered on dry, students never faulted him too much. “He just drones on after a while,” some of his online reviews would begin, “but at least he seems into what he’s teaching.” Holistically, Davenport was one hell of a professor.

But everyone has their limits.

Usually as math department chair, Davenport was able to dodge teaching introductory courses for students who didn’t want to be there and for students who absolutely didn’t belong there. (Even the best professor couldn’t help but occasionally dash the med school hopes of students who failed cal 1). This year though, the department was facing a number of staffing issues which is how he found himself leading a class of non math majors into the fray of finite math. A finite math class that met Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 8 am. What could go wrong?

Besides about half the class choosing absenteeism over attendance, the class had gone well for much of the semester. Test grades were decent, the students who did show up usually did their best to not be obviously on their phones the entire time, and none of his dry erase markers had gone missing. Truthfully, Davenport couldn’t complain too much.

--

Davenport shuffled into the classroom and kicked snow off his boots, unwinding his scarf as he did. “Sorry I’m a little late, folks. Spilled coffee all over some books from the library so please please please do not tell Mrs. Istus at circulation about that, I’m hoping she won’t notice. Also, car door was quite literally frozen shut this morning so that was a whole other debacle to deal with. But I’m here, you’re here, it’s Friday, let’s rock and roll through some probability, maybe some introductory stats stuff too.” He stacked his cold weather gear onto the chair before looking out at the blank faces of his students. Great start. He glanced at his outline for a moment before pacing to the center of the classroom. “I always like starting off with independent events, I think they’re useful and can even be fun at parties if you’ve got that one friend who always says ‘now what are the odds of that?’ because now you can let them know!” He laughed a little to himself before walking towards the whiteboard. Looking around the room, he pointed at the twins slouching in the middle row. “Let’s say Taako and Lup over there are getting their nerd on and are playing Dungeons and Dragons later tonight.” Lup blinked heavily and nodded absently while Taako snorted, attempting to hide the fact that he was absolutely checking Twitter instead of listening. “And let’s say they’re both just rolling like crap. They’re trying to kill some evil wizard or something and both whiff it, bad. What are the odds that, using a twenty-sided die, they both roll a natural one?”

Fifteen blank faces stared back at him. He looked around the room, trying to catch the eye of any of his students; they were all pointedly avoiding eye contact, hoping to skirt any attention. Davenport hesitated. He hated cold calling but sometimes he had no other choice.

“Magnus?”

Magnus Burnsides jerked his head up from his hand where it was previously propped up for the world’s least comfortable nap. “Yeah?”

“What are the odds that Taako and Lup both roll a one on a twenty-sided die?”

He scratched his sideburns thoughtfully, genuinely contemplating the question. “Uh, one in ten, right?”

Davenport’s smile wavered for a moment. “Not quite! Let’s try someone else. Sloane? Any ideas?” Davenport looked at her expectantly.

Sloane blinked and stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. “One in twenty?”

Davenport grimaced a little. “Okay, let’s take it back a step. Who can tell me what the textbook called independent events?” He looked out into the room and saw fifteen scalps; everyone had upped their avoidance tactics. “Taako?”

Taako set his phone down in surprise and sent Davenport a tight smile. “Hmm?”

“Did you catch my question?”

“See, I want to say yes because I feel like you’ll be disappointed if I say no. But no.”

He nodded tiredly. “I appreciate the honesty. Avi? Remember what the book said about independent events?”

Avi shook his head slowly as he smiled apologetically.

Davenport took a deep breath and clasped his hands together. “Okay, did anyone actually do the reading?” Once again, fifteen pairs of eyes declined to meet his. Davenport could feel his blood pressure rising by the minute. “Folks, I really don’t think I ask for a lot. I know most you really don’t care about this class and that’s your business. But you have got to help me help you. You know, I-I really don’t love having my inbox flooded with questions that are answered in the first two pages of the chapter we’re on. But that happens every time an assignment goes out. You’re all smart but you’re not acting like it. And frankly, I don’t know how much more I can take! Those of you that actually come to class spend most of your time daydreaming or checking your socials or just outright sleeping and I’m a little sick of it!”

All his students looked around at each other, saying nothing. Nobody had ever seen Davenport get flustered. Truthfully, nobody had thought it possible.

“And listen, I know nobody wants to spend their time reading a math textbook but I really don’t wanna spend my time trying to get some very basic concepts through your skulls when we could be spending our time more wisely. I know damn well I’m going to stand up here and explain the lesson for today, assign some problems, and get no fewer than ten emails I’ll have to attend to. My differential equations class has been waiting for test grades for three weeks because I’ve been having to spoon-feed this class APR! I’m not trying to be a dick this morning but you’ve got to give me something. You’ve gotta start doing your readings, give me a little bit of feedback in class, and stay off your damn phones. You think you can handle that?” Davenport was a little red in the face. He hated having to go on a tirade sometimes the situation called for it.

The class nodded mutely. Davenport smiled warmly at them. “Okay great. I’m sorry about that, I really am but I do hope you all understand where I’m—”

He was cut off by perhaps the single loudest rendition of the chorus of “Call Me Maybe” coming from a phone in the classroom. Ever head in the room turned to look at Kravitz, who was frantically trying to shut his phone off. He looked back at Davenport sheepishly. “Sorry, I thought it was on silent.”

Davenport silently walked back to the chair where he had stacked his winter gear and started bundling back up. “Uh, happy Friday, everyone. Go home or go somewhere else, I think we’ve all had enough today.”