Better than Graduating with Laude

I have so many, but this one was the first to come to mind upon reading the prompt.

This National Artist for Literature entered my professor’s office (Spanish majors that we were, there were all of three of us in one class, clearly not worthy of an entire classroom) and started brandishing his cane about.

“I’m here to let you take me to lunch,” he informed my professor.

He was short and very old, as adorable as an ewok. Nobody would have guessed that he’d won numerous writing awards and taught at prestigious universities all over the world.

Professor B gestured toward us. “I’m in the middle of a class. Will you wait another 20 minutes?”

He turned to us, a little surprised to find us there. Without replying to my professor, he began a tirade about students those days (it was the ’90s) not reading anymore.

As a candidate for magna cum laude, I could have assured him that I did plenty of reading, but I was busy dodging his cane.

“You.” The cane was pointed at me. “What was the last book you read?”

I’m glad to note in hindsight that my default had been honesty. “Perry Mason and the Fan-Dancer’s Horse in Spanish.”

His disappointment and subsequent dismissal were almost comical. “Perry Mason? Pshaw! That’s not literature!”

“I gave her that book,” my professor cut in. “I encourage them to do some light reading in Spanish. These students are Spanish majors.”

He still wasn’t convinced that we weren’t total philistines. He whipped out a paperback from his back pocket, which was surprisingly agile of him.

“Okay, let’s see.” He showed me the table of content and demanded, “Tell me which authors you know.”

I knew almost all of them. “Well, Kate Chopin and Colette and -“

“Name a work of Colette!” He glared at me as though I was just pretending to know these authors.

“Well, La Vagabonde, Gigi…”

He started applauding before enthusiastically extending his hand. It took me a second too long to realize that I was supposed to shake it. “I congratulate you, my dear.”

So that was the day I convinced a National Artist that there was hope in the younger generation. I’ll never forget it, especially since I haven’t shut up about it in the last thirty years.