19. Perfect Linear Correlation - Lords of Serendipity

Jack had also run out of money. This was why he came out of Katrina’s bedroom on a Saturday night in March carrying another stack of the exam booklets he’d been storing in there.

He was ten thousand dollars behind because Katrina never bothered to ask for a residence refund for winter semester, and another ten thousand dollars behind because she was living in a new apartment, and another twenty thousand dollars behind because all future sections of STA 105 had been canceled.

Learning of the university’s plans for dealing with students affected by the recent death of a student in STA 105, Jack had volunteered to meet individually with any who invoked the university’s Compassionate Grading Protocol. The policy guaranteed students an automatic A− in a course connected to a verified tragedy, no matter when they took it or the grade they originally received. Students called them suicide grades, as Helen had told him, on their first date, ages earlier, the end of the fall semester. That next night, their second date, Adi Bhopal had killed himself. There had been no third date. And no more teaching STA 105.

But there was still money needed, and there was money to be made. The total number of possible applicants for the Compassionate Grading Protocol was approximately ten thousand. Each meeting was to be ten minutes in duration. If every single student sought a retroactive A−, this could be expressed as 1,666 hours of meetings. If Jack conducted these meetings for ten hours a day, five days a week, it would take eight months and ten days to complete the work. The rate was $50/hour, which meant, before taxes, he could make an extra $80,000 in eight months, which—again, if every single former student sought an A− grade—would take care of the new current-year deficit, and also the eight months of study abroad Katrina was planning.

But despite moving his three regular courses to evening slots to free up his days, and keeping two nights a week open to accommodate time zone differences, only two thousand former students had requested a meeting, so far. That came to $16,000, before taxes, which took care of the rest of Katrina’s expenses for her freshman year. Beyond that, if no other student asked for a meeting and STA 105 wasn’t offered again, Jack had no idea how he was going to pay for the rest of Katrina. He declined the offer of an assistant position for the student meetings; Jack said he would do the clerical work himself. He asked the chair to be paid for it. The chair had looked away, embarrassed.

Jack wasn’t embarrassed.

The clerical work, $1,500, represented Katrina’s grocery budget for at least six weeks.

He spent the rest of his Saturday night matching exam booklets to his list of names for the coming week’s meetings.

The following Thursday he went to a taupe four-story concrete building with a recently added black-glass canopy. The building housed the university’s police department; its mental health counselors; offices for student, staff, and faculty complaints; and bookable rooms designated for sensitive meetings.

His 11 a.m. appointment had yet to arrive.

He waved at Kroc, who was working from a bumper-sticker-covered laptop at their desk in the corner of the room. Kroc did not look up from their screen. Kroc never looked up from their screen. Kroc was from the Office of People Integrity and, for reasons that were never explained, attended each of Jack’s STA 105 meetings. In addition to never looking up from their screen, Kroc never spoke. Instead, Kroc typed continuously, whether or not there was a meeting taking place.

The first appointment of the day arrived. Jack took out the script he had to follow. The former student looked very, very young. High school young. Not-looking-up-from-his-phone young. Had he skipped grades along the way to Arcadia? Jack was skeptical. The kind of kids who skipped grades weren’t the kind of kids who attended Arcadia. The young man was wearing a white dress shirt that still had the tag on the collar and a black tie tucked into his black camouflage pants. He was accompanied by his mother, who was dressed in a burgundy blazer and skirt and wearing very severe black-frame glasses with rhinestone accents.

Hello, Marion, my name is Professor Bayern, he said, reading from the paper in front of him. I am here on behalf of the university. Also present is Kroc Jonz, from the Office of People Integrity. I want to begin by noting that there are resources available to you should this meeting create any challenges associated with your well-being. I also want to begin by—

Why are you looking at my son, mister? I’m Marion. I’m here for my A+. Jamiroquai is here because I want him to hear what I have to say and maybe he’ll listen to his mum for a change because he sees a fancy actual professor is listening to his mum.

My apologies. Would you like me to begin again?

She snorted.

Just tell me what I’m supposed to do to get my A+. I only paid for a half hour’s parking.

To qualify for an A− under the terms of the university’s Compassionate Grading Protocol, you’re invited to provide an account of your experience as a student in STA 105 in the context of the recent and tragic death of a fellow STA 105 student.

Wow, Ma. You passed a course that people actually kill themselves for?

She nodded.

Respect, the son said, still staring at his phone.

Your final exam is here and available for your review, he said, continuing with the script. I can provide it to you, if that would be of assistance to your providing this account of your experience.

He held up the blue booklet, which had 38/100 written on the front.

She dismissed it.

I came to this country when I was young and I’m not going to discuss why or how. I’m presently a single mother. I work two jobs, and am looking for a third, by the way. Five years ago, they let me into Arcadia under some fancy program and took my picture with the chancellor and all these other big blond ladies who gave me their business cards and said I was going to join them someday and be a big lady boss too and I even paid for business cards but after the first-semester exam results and Jamiroquai has the ADD and I’m not giving him any of those pills the doctors keep pushing on us. Devil’s candies, those are. Well anyway and on top of that scam I still haven’t finished paying back the loan. Loans. But all of that just is, mister. Okay? That’s what happens to people like me. Take my picture, take my money. Make big promises. Make like a mudfish and just vanish into the mud. And then next girl in line, please. But then I get this note about this statistics course that I took back in uni. And you know I’ve never got an A+ in anything. The life I have, the life I’m having, I deserve an A+ in something. Don’t I?

Jack gave her an A− and went on to the rest of his appointments for the day.

Many were with Chinese and Indian students and recent graduates, some of whom brought teddy bears, while one or two tried to give Jack boxes of duty-free chocolates. By now Jack had figured out that they were all reading from a script. The only variation: now and then, some of the students also asked for a refund.

Otherwise, it was

After the final appointment of the day, Jack got up from the desk.

Interesting.

Pardon me?

Interesting, said Kroc, who was still typing and did not look away from their screen.

What’s interesting? Jack asked.

The pattern.

Oh. Yes. They’re all clearly reading from the same script. Just as I read from the same university script to each of them. Probably AI generated, all around.

No. The pattern has to do with who asks for refunds.

Refunds? Yes, a few did ask for refunds. I appreciate that these are international students who pay full tuition, but refunds have nothing to do with the Compassionate Grading Protocol. Correct?

Correct.

Also, it does seem like a lot to ask for, when they’re getting a grade change to an A− for nothing, doesn’t it?

That’s debatable. What isn’t, however, is the pattern.

Which is?

The only ones who have asked for refunds are students who took STA 105 in the past three years and received grades of seventy-six assigned by TA Allard Hamburger. Which is the median score you need to earn a B, right?

Say that again, please, exactly.

The median score you need to earn a B?

No. The other thing you said. About Allard Hamburger assigning grades.

I will. But I also want to caution you against overconfidence bias when it comes to making untested claims about the pattern’s larger significance. Just good behavioral science, is all. That was what I worked on for my own PhD before getting hired by HR. I mean the Office of People Integrity.

Agreed. Now, repeat what you said, please.

The former students who asked for refunds were all students who received seventy-sixes, who were also all students who took STA 105 in the past three years. And Allard Hamburger assigned all their grades.

That’s four variables in perfect linear correlation, said Jack.

So then, what’s the coefficient for the correlation? asked Kroc. I took a stats course in undergrad. Glad I didn’t take STA 105 here, clearly.

But Kroc was asking the wrong question.

Because the question wasn’t what.

The question was, who?

And Jack already knew the answer.