On the final day of his first semester, Caleb arrives home with an armful of cards and gifts from his students. He spreads his collection out on the table, and Essek sits with him as he reads them aloud through misty eyes.
“What about this one?” Essek plucks a scroll from the pile and unfurls it.
“Ah,” Caleb says, “I saw that one already. It is tradition for students to rank their professors at the end of a course, so that future students may have an idea of what to expect. It’s not for our eyes, but someone left a copy behind.”
Essek reads through the scroll, his smile widening at all the hearts and stars and effusive exclamation points. He knew that Caleb was a natural educator, but it warms his heart to see that he is so beloved by his students, that they clearly feel his dedication and care. The weeks of agonizing over the syllabus and late nights grading papers have unequivocally paid off.
When he reaches the end of the scroll, he frowns. Skims back to the top, and draws a finger down the list again.
“They did not give you a pepper.”
“They did not give you a pepper!” Essek repeats, his voice a shade more indignant.
“I do not know what that means, Schatz.”
“Look here!” Essek points to the key at the top. “They’re supposed to give a pepper for hot professors.”
Caleb stifles a laugh. “They’re thirteen. I should hope none of them would take interest in a grubby old man.”
With a huff, Essek grabs a quill and carefully marks his addition at the bottom.
“There.” He pushes the scroll over to Caleb and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Now it is more accurate.”
