Ask Not For Whom The Panther Prowls by Astor James Monroe Page B

a
student.”
    “ You don't
usually get upset when one drops your class.”
    “ Hardy,” I
laughed, “No, it wasn't that. He died from heart failure at the end
of class.” At least that's when we found out about it. He could
have been dead for a few minutes before without my noticing it.
That thought only made it worse.
    She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “That's
awful.”
    “ I didn't
think my lectures were that boring.”
    “ I'm sure
they're not.”
    Danny had a
different take on things. By age six, he'd seen his parents
divorced, then had his stepmother reject him when his father was
put on trial. His father organized an embezzlement ring with
murderous consequences at the university research foundation. Mind
you, his biological father had just doped Danny's stepmother
preparatory to chopping her up for smoked ribs and was extending
his family in several directions sideways at the time. So she
wasn't completely unjustified in dumping Danny back into Laura's
lap. My relationship with Danny wasn't helped by the fact that it
was my efforts that put his biological father in prison. We had our
good days and our not so good days. This was one of the not so good
days. I was getting the silent treatment until he spoke.
    “ They are
too.”
    It was going to be interesting living as a new
family.
    3
    Next morning
I text messaged my TA. We had to discuss what happened yesterday in
class and figure out a plan to deal with it for the next lecture.
He showed up at my office and we talked about how to handle the
death in a respectful and professional manner. I vetoed the ideas
of talking about the heart as a pump and measuring the electrical
impulses from its muscles. While those aspects of biophysics would
be interesting, the timing just wasn't right. It would have to be
an emotional and forthright discussion about feelings.
    Since
neither of us was particularly skilled at social or emotional
intelligence this promised to be difficult and I was looking
through the university website to see if there were counselors who
could help the class. While we were searching, the undergraduate
who helped me with CPR knocked on my door.
    Even though he was one of the more alert ones,
with 50, well now of 49 students I hadn't learned his name yet.
    “ Dr.
Sharpe?”
    “ Hi, I'm
sorry, I don't quite remember your name, but thank you for helping
yesterday. It's a shame it didn't work.”
    “ Steve
Jordan, well,” he paused, “we did our best. When I took CPR they
warned us it didn't usually work.”
    “ Steve, I'm
sure you've seen my TA and graduate student Tom.”
    “ Yo.”
    “ Anyway, the
student who collapsed, did you know him?”
    “ Same scout
troop. We were buddies.”
    “ I'm sorry.
Did he have health problems?”
    “ No, we just
did Philmont last summer. 100 miles in a week and a half at 8000
feet. Couldn't have gone if he had a weak heart.”
    “ He wasn't
doing any drugs? Cocaine will sometimes do things like
this.”
    “ Sam, no. He
was a straight arrow. Wouldn't even drink a beer.”
    “ So nothing
unusual?”
    “ Nah, he was
even earning extra money by tutoring foreign students with their
English. Great guy.”
    “ I'm
sorry.”
    “ He'll be
missed.”
     
     
     
     

2. Presidential
Action.
    The deaths
of so many students was cause for consternation to the upper
echelons of university administration. The president, Dr. Andrew
Pace, the one faculty member whose salary approached that of the
football coach, called a private emergency meeting with the
provost, Dr. Alice James, the deans and the university legal
counsel, Mr. David Wilcox. They met on the third floor of Dahlberg
hall in a conference room off of the main corridor. A long reddish
mahogany table ran from one end of the room to the other. It was
surrounded by comfortable leather office chairs, and was the room
routinely used for policy discussions and faculty senate committee
meetings.
    Carefully coiffed with an expensive haircut and
a sharp Italian