Baby Cage Read Online Free Page A

the importance of arriving on time. You’re all here to get jobs some day, and employers abhor tardiness. It makes you look bad in front of your colleagues, especially in situations where others might be depending on you. So again, Lena, tell us why you were late.”
    “I got into a conversation,” I said. I hated the answer. It made me sound like some girl who just wanted to socialize. I hated those girls. College was supposed to make you a better person, not a chance to perfect your keg stand. All of those rebuttals flashed behind my eyes, but I didn’t speak. I couldn’t find any good way to articulate those ideas, so instead, I bowed my head again and said timidly, “I’m sorry.”
    “Are you now?”
    I felt my insides get hot at his haughty note. Granted, as a teacher, he had pretty much every right to look down on me. I mean, I was so much younger and inexperienced. But there was something else. He talked to me like I was an actual child. He made me feel like a little girl who just spilled a glass of milk.
    “Yes. I’m sorry.” No one else could have made me feel so embarrassed, except for maybe Professor Kline, ironically enough, the teacher of my next class, Introduction to Psychology. “Please, I won’t let it happen again.”
    He watched me for a short while longer, though to me it seemed like an eternity. “Okay,” he said. “Talk to me after class. We’ll discuss your punishment.” With his decision lingering on the air and his words echoing in my head, Professor Rowland spun around and continued the discussion.
    He talked about the significance of symbols, both verbal and visual. He talked about how everything from clothing to brand names influenced consumers and citizens. As his paced back and forth and engaged the class in discussion, I tried to regain my sense of equilibrium.
    It took me a good twenty minutes for me to reestablish myself as the smartest girl in the class. Seth looked out at us and asked, “Can anyone think of a symbol for individualism and self-determination?” We had talked about what the Nike swoosh and McDonald’s arches represented, but this new question scared everyone else off.
    Tentatively but determined, I raised my hand.
    “Yes, Lena?” he asked with a nod.
    “The American flag.”
    “Not a bad idea. How is that a symbol?”
    “Well, you have the literal representation of the stars representing each state and the strips for the original colonies.”
    “Why would anyone care about those as symbols?”
    “I don’t think they would,” I said. My voice threatened to break into a nervous squeak again, but I closed my mouth, wetted my throat, and continued, “But we take it as something completely different now. The flag represents us. It represents who we are and who we want to be.”
    “But aren’t those all abstract concepts?”
    “They are,” I agreed. “But that’s why it’s so powerful. It’s like what you were saying about Nike. They say just do it, but they never tell us what we’re supposed to do. They don’t want to say so that their fans can fill it in. The U.S. flag is exactly the same. I’m sure you have conservatives out there who’d say it’s one thing. Liberals might say something completely different. It’s a popular symbol because it has no built-in meaning.”
    “Very smart,” he said and continued the lecture.
    Since Professor Rowland sounded so impressed, I hoped he might have forgotten about my earlier infraction.
    No luck.
    I packed up my stuff, swung my backpack over one shoulder, kept my head down, tucked my hands into my pockets, and rushed for the exit with the rest of the herd. Professor Rowland was wiping off the white board when his voice rang out very clearly, “Lena, I don’t believe we finished our earlier conversation.”
    I froze, my knees locking up. Someone who had been trudging behind me must not have paid attention because he walked into me, jostled off, and continued on. With a slow exhalation of air, I