and calculations, showing him the original knot diagram with its eleven crossings, and explaining four-dimensional spheres, concordance, positive mutations, abelian and metabelian sliceness invariants, diffeomorphic traces, and manifolds.
He listened carefully to every word, seeming to follow along at first. But as she retraced her hypotheses and calculations, getting deeper and deeper into abstract math, a crease formed in his brow. By the time she’d started to describe the trace sibling she proposed to construct in order to prove her theorem, she could tell she’d lost him completely.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Once I start talking about this stuff I tend to get carried away.”
“You’re passionate about it.” He wasn’t teasing her the way Paul used to do sometimes when she got fired up talking about her work. Josh said it like it was a compliment.
“I guess I am.” It was nice to be able to feel that way again. She’d been putting so much pressure on herself that the thing she used to love more than anything else in the world had turned into a source of anxiety. The competition and uncertainty of the job market, the need to distinguish herself from her peers, publish more, do more, be better than everyone else, had stolen most of the joy out of it.
She’d almost forgotten how fun it could be to work at a problem. The endorphin high when the solution finally clicked into place.
Josh was still staring at her notes, scratching his head as he tried to decipher what must look like an alien language to him, and it inspired a warm surge of affection.
Slipping her arms around his waist from behind, she rested her chin on his shoulder. “I warned you it wouldn’t make sense. You’re probably feeling sorry for my poor students now, having to listen to me ramble in class.”
“Are you kidding?” He laid a hand over hers where they were clasped across his stomach. “That made way more sense than any of the lectures in my business calculus class.”
She nuzzled at the skin behind his ear. “Sure.” He was only saying that to be nice. Humoring her. She appreciated it, but she didn’t for a minute believe it.
“I admit I lost you a bit with the exotic four-dimensional spaces. And I didn’t really get any of the stuff about manifolds.” He pointed to the page showing her handle calculus for the four-manifold, proving he actually had been following along. “But I understood a lot more than I thought I would. You’ve got a gift for teaching.”
She let out a soft snort against his neck. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do.” He twisted in her arms so they were face-to-face. The crease had returned to his forehead and his tone was lightly chiding. “Antonio said the same thing.”
She blinked in surprise. “He did?”
“He said your class was his favorite. That he never felt like he was good at math before, but you’ve helped him realize he actually likes it.”
“Oh.” Mia bit down on her lip as she felt herself smile. “That’s nice of him. I’m glad he’s gaining confidence.” Antonio’s compliment inspired a wholly new sense of pride, bringing an endorphin high that rivaled the one she’d gotten from her breakthrough this morning.
Teaching had never been her priority in grad school. You couldn’t get ahead in academia just by being a good teacher. It was the scholarship you produced that mattered most for getting hired. You only had to be good enough at teaching, rather than the very best.
As a PhD student, she hadn’t had much to do with the master’s students pursuing a teaching degree. Perhaps she’d even looked down on them a little, if she was being honest. One of her father’s favorite asshole refrains had always been, “Those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach.” Although she’d recognized it as elitist, contemptible bullshit, it was possible she’d unwittingly internalized a little of his attitude anyway.
Certainly teaching was a noble profession, but it wasn’t exactly prestigious. Noble endeavors weren’t supposed to bring prestige. They were for people without ambition driving them to less selfless markers of success.
Teaching MAs were destined for a lifetime of underfunded classrooms, teaching to standardized tests, and chaperoning school dances. Mia had her sights set on the ivy-covered halls of academia, research grants, and symposia.
As far as she’d been concerned, teaching was a side gig. One she’d never much enjoyed when she was teaching someone else’s lesson plan. The discussion sections she’d taught in grad school had been limited to clarifying