FEB 2024 - Missing Student

In 1987 I was the lead faculty member of a first-year honors course titled “Interdisciplinary Arts.” We used Othello as the subject, looking at the play by Shakespeare, the opera by Verdi, “The Moor’s Pavane,” a dance by José Limón, and various paintings based on the story. The capstone event was a trip to New York City.

As part of the pre-trip planning students were asked to sign an agreement that they would stay with the group. If they needed to use a bathroom, eat or leave the group for any reason, they would let a faculty member know.

One student complained we were treating the class as if they were children; they were adults and should be treated as such. None of them had been to New York City and so I explained the necessity for the request. “It’s a big city. It’s easy to get lost. We’re responsible for your safety and wellbeing so we need everyone to stay together. The student continued to complain. I lost patience. “If you don’t agree to the terms, you’re welcome to stay home. Your choice.” She signed the agreement so reluctantly I almost told her she was not welcome to join us. 

After the students left class, I told the other three faculty I didn’t trust her. They poopooed my concerns but I still felt uneasy. I suggested we ask students to choose a buddy as a precaution. Once again, they dismissed my worries.

We had two classes left before the trip. The student avoided me as best she could, tersely answering questions, participating as little as possible. My qualms increased. 

The day of the trip she arrived just as we were boarding the train. Unlike the others, who were dressed casually, with little or no makeup, she was dressed in a tailored suit, high heels, and was carefully made up. My stomach clenched. I vowed to keep my eyes on her no matter what.

Each student had a copy of our itinerary and where and when we’d be boarding our train back to Delaware. En route to NYC I went over the itinerary, where we’d have lunch, and stressed the importance of staying together. I avoided looking at her.

The first part of our visit went according to plan. After lunch, we arrived at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and I went to contact our guide. When I returned the student was not there. Quelling my fear, I asked where she was. Silence. Shrugs. Apparently no one noticed her absence. We checked the bathrooms and cafeteria. No student.

I told the faculty to continue with our plan, that I would look for her and, if necessary, would meet them at the train station when it was time to board. I walked out of the museum wondering how in hell I could possibly find her in the two hours left before our scheduled departure.

It’s difficult to explain what happened next. I felt guided, as if I knew where to turn, which stores to look in, which restaurants to check. Time slowed down as I crossed busy avenues and walked down small side streets, constantly looking in windows, trying not to panic.

I came to a street which had a lot of restaurant marquees. What possessed me to look carefully in the windows of each of them, I don’t know. What possessed me to walk into the one I did, I don’t know. But, there she was. Comfortably sitting at a low table in the bar area, with two well-dressed men in their 40’s, drinking what looked like cocktails, munching on appetizers, smiling at the men, having a wonderful time.

I was furious and relieved. For a moment I stood and watched them laughing and flirting, trying to calm myself. When I felt ready, I walked over to them and said to the men, “She’s a first-year student at the University of Delaware on a school trip. She’s 17 years old.” They looked horrified and muttered something about how they thought she was much older. 

She glared at me and stood up, ready to run. I grabbed her arm and said, “Let’s go. We need to hurry. The train won’t wait and I’m not willing to spend a night in NYC with you.”

She was taller and heavier but my anger gave me strength she couldn’t counter. I decided it would be better to walk to the train station since the traffic was so heavy. She struggled, but to no avail. My fury was greater than her resistance. I was not about to miss the train and have to deal with her by myself just because she chose to flirt with men old enough to be her father. Despite her struggling to get away, I marched her down to the train station where we met the others who had just arrived.

She tried to pull away but I told her, “I don’t trust you. You will stay with me until we’re on the train and it’s moving.” When she complained I was hurting her, I said, “Then stop fighting me.” I ignored the looks of the other students and faculty members. My entire focus was putting her on the train with no chance of getting off.

She sat by herself during the ride home. When we left the train, and she was about to step into the university van, she turned to me and snarled, “So, are you going to fail me?” 

“I’m one of four faculty members. It’s a group decision.”


Have you ever felt hyper focused and guided, even when you didn’t know where to go and time was not on your side? If so, what was that like?

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