Caught by a Computer :: Personal Narrative Cheating Papers

Caught by a Computer As I sat in his office, sweat dripped off my long brown bangs onto my light coloured collared button-down shirt. It was not because I was nervous, it was because it was the end of April and unseasonably warm in Charlottesville, Virginia. I was there, in my professors office, in my mind, because he cherished to build caught up with me about my future plans after graduation. He was curious about my plans for the summer, plans for my fianc and I, and plans for my career as a high school teacher at the human race school in my hometown, Mclean, Virginia. I was alone in his office, waiting for Dr. Bloomfield to show up to his office for our casual meeting scheduled for 330 that afternoon. The estrus was becoming unbearable. The University of Virginias century old buildings on the quad were not air conditioned, and I was beginning to wish that I had paid the extra cultivation to have them installed. I sat in his small dimly lit office, becoming impatient becaus e it was nearing four oclock. I began to notice the pictures that cluttered Dr. Bloomfields overrun office. Pictures of his wife, his twin daughters, who appeared to be roughly the same age as I, and his younger son, in his early teen years, sat atop stacks of periodicals and and to be graded finals. I noticed my final research paper on the top of the stack. This seemed odd however I guessed he only wanted to discuss it while we met, as foreclosure to the popular Intro. To Physics class for upperclassmen of his that I was enrolled in, as it was our final assignment. I was distracted once again by the align of pictures throughout his undeservedly small office. Among these were more pictures of his boat, his bay house on the Chesapeake Bay, and his chocolate lab Mocha, whom I was familiar with at this point due to some(prenominal) stories he shared in class. Dr. Bloomfield was a family man whom I had gained great respect for over the years. My aspirations for what I wanted my life to turn out standardised very closely replicated his own life. Sitting alone in his office gave me time to think about what I wanted to become, who I wanted to marry, how many an(prenominal) kids I wanted to have and so on.