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It was my first year of graduate school, and I was supposed to give a lecture to a history class for which I was serving as a teaching assistant. I had, of course, given many presentations as an undergraduate, but this would be the first lecture I would be delivering as a “teacher,” and I was understandably nervous about the whole affair.
The night before the lecture, I spent my time over-preparing -- looking at my notes, re-writing my notes, imagining how I might succeed, imagining how I might fail, practicing my introductory remarks, and so on and so forth. I did not sleep much. The next day, I continued pretty much along those same lines until about an hour before the class was to begin. Jittery with nerves, I headed over to campus and arrived just in time to realize that I hadn’t eaten all day long. Class would last 90 minutes, and I knew I would need to put something into my stomach or else I might pass out halfway through the session.
I was short on time, and my options were limited. I made the fateful decision to hit the cheap taco place just off campus, where I could purchase two bean burritos for a couple of bucks and eat them on my way to class. The first burrito presented no difficulty; halfway through the second, however, I took a large bite that managed to spew a wad of refried beans out the front of the burrito. It was like a small cannon that fired warm, brown paste. I dodged the beans as they flew toward the sidewalk, and I finished my short dash to class.
The lecture began uneventfully. I spoke for a few moments, then dimmed the lights to show a brief video clip that would serve as the basis for much of the rest of the lecture. As the film rolled, I looked around the room to gauge student reactions. Some appeared interested, others not so much. This was typical.
What was not typical, however, was the large mound of refried beans that I noticed on my knee when I glanced briefly toward the floor. I must not have noticed that I’d been hit when the second burrito exploded in my hand. Regardless, I was horrified. What could I do? The tape was coming to an end, and soon the eyes of the students would be back on me -- and on the shit-like lump of goo oozing down my leg.
In an act of desperation, I reached down and scooped the beans off my knee with my bare hand, then wiped the mess inside the podium. When the tape ended and the lights came back on, I continued the lecture. A little while later, I was finished. Relieved to have avoided humiliation, I gathered my things and left.
On the way back to my office, I stopped in a restroom, where I noticed the small blob of a familiar brown substance perched conspicuously on my shoulder.
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