So apparently one of my students lives next door to me.
Forgive me if I don’t jump for joy.
Living next door to any of my students–as you can probably imagine–isn’t exactly my idea of a delightful development. I guess this means I’ll have to actually put on pants now when I open the windows.
Kidding. I’m totally kidding. (Except maybe on laundry day.)
Though this news has made me self-conscious enough to stop blasting Taylor Swift out the open window at odd hours of the day now, weirdly enough, my first reaction when s/he asked me if I lived in his/her building was to simply laugh.
Sometimes, in the midst of all this labeling and titling and instructing, we forget that our students are every bit as human as we are. We complain (rightly so) that our students think we live in our offices and have nothing to do but answer all their last-minute essay-related emails–but aren’t we teachers guilty of the same thing? I mean, it’s a bit unfair to assume that the only thing our students have going on in their lives is brainstorming, outlining, writing, and revising their 8-page paper on Stuart Little.
(Okay, so maybe that keg of beer they consumed while they were actually supposed to be writing was a bad idea…but seriously, it’s college. When else are they going to get the chance? Certainly not when they “get their act together” and “grow up,” which is what the world always seems so keen on rushing them–and us all!–to do.)
At the end of the day, I’m actually a bit glad life decided to Punk me with this bizarre, slightly awkward development. It’s a smart reminder that we’re all sort of in the same boat together, even if we’re not exactly operating on the same level.… Read more