“He learned his lesson in third year, when, after he had passed his preliminary exams, Simone pulled him into her office to debrief. She sat behind her desk with her legs crossed, a beautiful winter day lying white and smooth behind her, all the way to the lake, that blue-white churn and the trees like delicate woodwork in a diorama. He felt good about himself. He felt, for the first time since coming to grad school, like he was finally doing what she always urged him to do — catching up — and he imagined that he saw pride in her eyes. He was excited. he was ready to begin in earnest — to really begin. And she asked, How do you think that went? And he said Oh, well, I thought it was okay. And she shook her head grimly. She said, You know, Wallace, that was … frankly, I was embarrassed for you. Had that been another student, it might have gone differently. You might not have passed. But we talked a long time about what was feasible for you, what was reasonable for your abilities, and we decided we’d pass you, but we are going to watch you, Wallace. No more of this. You need to get better. She spoke as though she was bestowing blessings. Bestowing beneficence. Bestowing irrefutable grace. She spoke as though she was saving him. What could he say? What could he do?”
Nothing. Except to work.“
Real Life, by Brandon Taylor