I heard a story last night from one of my students, about a party one of her profs had given the class at the end of the semester. Now, I've given my grad students parties on occasion myself, but I consider these things very staid affairs, where your very, very best professorial face gets put forward; sherry is sipped in tiny crystal glasses, and the students are begged to wipe their feet before propping themselves up on your sofa.
Of course, the students misbehave dreadfully, but that is their prerogative.
Well, not so for some teachers! My student said that her prof drank rather a lot at this party, so much, in fact, that he started indiscriminatly fondling people. He told my particular student that she had "magnetic breasts." And there was an accidental somersault over the back of the sofa. He ended the evening by passing out face down on the kitchen table...at which point the students took their cue to leave.
It was so bad that apparently he had to write apology notes the next day.
Now, I've heard of these sorts of events from the patriarchal fifties, when co-eds were considered fair game (I've even heard stories of one department member, long-deceased, who would hand out an assortment of colored pills before his class some thirty years ago), but here? Now? In the twenty-first, oh-so-enlightened century? When sexual-harrassment workshops are mandated before we're allowed to even enter a classroom of mixed genders?
What was particularly astonishing to me was how enthusiastically my students recounted this affair to me. They had a blast. "It was awesome," said one. No complaints were issued. They talk about the event to this day.
I don't get it?
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3 comments:
Wait, so you're saying that professor's don't get to fondle their female students indiscriminantly? Ok, ok, so no boobs - but what about butts? Surely a good smack or grab on the rear is still considered analogous to a hearty thumbs-up?
Personally, if female students do exceptionally well on a given task, I am inclined to bury my face in their cleavage and shake my head like a dog playing with a chewtoy. But, at the same time, I can see how some less enthusiastic instructors may be apt to settle for a handshake or the uber-mundane written or verbal praise. Yawn.
The ultimate testament to commitment to academia in 2006 translates easily into the length and intensity the benders a prof goes on. If you're not naked, foaming at the mouth, and crying about your childhood in a puddle of your own urine by the end of the night, it's possible that you might just not care enough.
All right, keep your trousers on! By the pricking of my thumbs (not to mention the unmistakable laconic overtones), I'd say this comment is coming from....the south-east side of Adams Humanities?
Yes...I'm seeing a fox-like visage pouring over my blog, a feral smirk flickering across his furry features....
I'm onto you, bud.
how do you work with this guy?
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