``You would have done quite well.``You would have done quite well.'' It is times like that when I'm thankful of my parochial school upbringing. For twelve years, I'd had the ways of Christ taught to me on a daily basis. I was reasonably sure that it wouldn't be an overly Christian act if I grabbed Professor Graham by the front of his shirt and screamed, ``No fucking shit moron, I'd have had the highest grad in class.'' Instead, I penitently stood as he proclaimed sentence, ``I'm sorry there is nothing I can do.'' And so came Wednesday and I found sitting in class a little more comfortable. At the end of class, Professor Graham handed out the second and final programming assignment and announced, ``If there is anyone who needs a parter for this assignment, please come up to the front of class and we'll set you up.'' The first assignment was fifteen-percent of our grade and second was thirty-five. I made my way to the front of class while the bulk of class filed out in silent mourning as they read the next assignment. Three of us had risen from the throngs in search of partners. Professor Graham said, ``There you have it, a programming team.'' Sort of akin to ``Let there be light.'' and Bob Graham saw the light and said, ``Hey, pretty neat.'' We were after all the dregs of the penal colony CS 502, the outcasts of the outcasts. We solemnly shook hands and introduced ourselves. My first partner was tall and slim, at least 6'6''. Although in his early twenties, he walked with the help of a cane. Jeff Walker was his name and blonde spiky hair was not his most distinguished features, his eyes were. As he asked me about my programming background, one of his eyes looked at me while the other pointed in some arbitrary direction. In his hand, he held a computer print-out and printed on the header page was J. Walker, his first initial and username. Appropriate. One eye was jay-walking while the other chose to use the crosswalk. |