THE THIRD ITEM DOWN ON the page of “Relevant Campus Resources” I’d printed off the Diversity Affairs Web site—listed after the mental health clinic and the financial aid office—was the Learning Strategies Center, which was divided into various “learning labs” based on whichever subject was slowly killing you. Like the salon where Leidy worked, each of these places gladly welcomed walkins, so my first visit to the chemistry learning lab between classes on Tuesday was spontaneous.
It was housed, along with a couple other offices, in a three-story brick building on the corner of the quad. I’d passed it dozens of times but never entered, thinking it was someone’s house: it looked more like an old mansion than an office building. But it actually was an old mansion, the former home of Rawlings presidents of yesteryear, before the civil rights era convinced college officials that having the president’s house right on campus maybe made student protests a little too easy for us. Inside, tucked up against a wall in what was clearly once a living room, sat a modern cubicle, its reddish panels the same color as the carpeting. The stairs—each step extra wide and pleated with the same carpet—ran right alongside this front desk. After easing shut the front door so that it didn’t make a sound as it closed and saying hello, I asked the student sitting there, So how does this work?
He said, Oh! Ummm, then chuckled. He pushed a chunk of straight black hair from his eyes and off his forehead, but it flopped back to the same spot the minute he pulled his hand away. He showed me a brochure and explained that upperclassman majors in various subjects were standing by to help me work through any and all assigned problem sets and to further explain concepts that I didn’t pick up in class or on my own. He ran a finger down the list of subjects covered, then down the different locations on campus.
—It’s other students that do it? That help you?
He said yes but assured me that the process to become a peer tutor was, like everything else at Rawlings, fairly grueling. He was, in fact, a tutor for several physics courses but couldn’t go near chemistry.
—For instance, he said, I’m pretty sure the center coordinator for chemistry has banned me from even saying the word chemistry more than twice in one day.
—You better watch out then, I said.
He blinked at me, so I said, You said chemistry three times just talking right now.
—Oh! he said, then laughed hard through his nose in spurts.
I swung my backpack around to my chest and opened the zipper, looking for my wallet and thinking of the money I’d thrown away on my surprise flight home.
—They charge by the hour or what? I said.
—Oh, no no no, he said, waving his hands. This is totally free. Or rather, to be more accurate, it’s part of what our tuition covers.
My hand was already around my wallet. I let my fingers relax and felt its weight slump back in my bag.
—How many do I get? I mean, appointments.
—As many as you need? I don’t think there’s a limit.
He slid papers around on his cubicle desk, checked a list tacked to the wall. He said, No one’s ever asked me that.