To his credit, Dr. Samuelson did not bully students.  Instead of grilling me about why I was so stupid he said, “If any of you are having trouble keeping up you can come to office for extra help. I did indeed need help — lots of help at that time.  By midterm that semester, I was not only in danger of failing math but, because of mediocre performance in my other classes, I would lose my parent’s support.  Out of desperation, I made an appointment with Dr. Samuelson.

His office was in the administration building at one end of the long hallway that ran the length of the second floor.  The dark woodwork and the smell of the floor wax and the oil used for mopping made that long walk seem like the prisoner’s last before the gas chamber.  His office, small with one window looking toward the brick prison-like gym added to the feeling of doom.  Piles of books and papers covered most surfaces except for a rickety swivel chair behind the desk and an uncomfortable wooden chair in front of it.  He motioned to the chair so I sat down and began by explaining my situation, adding that I very much wanted to do well in math and would do what was required.  Instead of yawning at this oft-told tale, he smiled and looked sympathetic and said, “So you’re here willing to learn and apply yourself.  If you’re serious I’m sure we can improve your grade.”