The Product of Academia, Part Two

So, for people who have read my Product of Academia post, you know that both of my parents are English professors. As the Spring semester hits full swing, I've noticed a few trends about how to behave towards parents in academia, and how they will behave towards you during certain points in the semester. For the most part, don't ask them for anything once flu season rolls around, during midterms, finals, when they have "another goddamn essay" to grade, when it's right before class, right after class, or when a student just asked them for an A because their father promised her a teeth whitening if she got all A's (true story).

For the most part, if you walk into your parents' house with coffee, you will instantly become their best friend. Same goes for an extra supply of red pens.

It's helpful to gauge how advanced your parents' classes are. This 1) gives them an outlet to complain about how that guy didn't show up for the fifth week in a row, and is expecting to pass the class, but it will also directly affect your parents' expectations for you. If they're teaching a bunch of freshmen who can't even write a sentence, getting a "nice work, but make sure you tighten up the thesis statement" suddenly equals "oh my god, she can write! She must be a genius!" However, if they're lecturing a bunch of graduate level geniuses, you might want to re-think showcasing that B+ like it's made out of gold. It might just constitute failure. B is for bums, clearly.

Once grading/research/"impress your colleagues" time is in session, your parents' brains are going to look something like:

Because of this, your story about how you and your friends just had the best time going ice skating, and you have an upcoming test, but the professor is so lazy it'll be like two questions long, and oh my god you need to get your hair cut, these split ends are just so horrible--chances are--they won't remember that story in the morning. This isn't because they don't care. But the professor's brain has perfected selective learning. If it's not going to show up in their lecture, it'll be stored in that dusty section of the brain that awakens in the summer.

Note: Many professor parents can also accomplish short term memorization, otherwise known as grown up metamorphosis. They remember your stories, ask follow up questions the next day, then when they're in front of their students, BAM! Every personal anecdote, every parenting thought is out the window.

Because, folks, in professor world, it's not survival of the fittest. It's survival of the "I can be more intellectual than you, la la la." 

Never talk to your parents about your professors. They will use that as an opportunity to make lunch plans with your professor and gossip about you. And vice versa--if your professors know your parents work in the same department, they will tell your parents about everything you've written, said, and thought about in class.

Sometimes, your friends will have your parents as a professor. All of a sudden, you will know every time your parent's fly is down, every time they sneezed awkwardly, and every time they made a pun in class. Try not to melt into a puddle every time you receive one of these texts.

And finally, never try to sound impressive and talk about what you learned in class that day--unless you want an hour long lecture that is scarily similar to the lecture you just had in class.

Side note: No parents were harmed in the making of this blog. My parents are still the sweetest, kindest, funniest people I know. And another Foucault lecture never hurt anybody.  :)

Namaste.