Adulthood, College, RealTalk, Sarcastic, Student

Dear my professor who apologized for picking on me in class today:

I should rephrase that…”picking on me” today is more accurate. But those were the words that you used. What you did was use me as a singular example of the whole concept you were teaching in class. No need to apologize…I’ll remember that section of the lesson clear as day, solely because you picked on me for a whole class. Honestly, I got the individual attention that so many moms lose and are not willing to admit they love and even crave, you gave me that…if only for 15 or 20 minutes, but you see, that’s probably more than I’ve had all year. 
I’m certainly not whining about my plight, because the reality is that all other mothers go through this too…I have no doubt it goes back to the beginning of time where Eve’s yelling at Adam for some dumb ass thing he has let their sons do – I mean shit, we have that whole Cain and Abel thing that went down…how the eff pissed do you think Eve was after all of that?!? She’s the only mom on earth at that point, I can tell you I sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted to go home to her that night, just saying….. 

But I digress… 

The point is that you made me feel human again; you made me feel individual, special even, and you didn’t ask about my kids or assume anything about me as a mom (and therefore person) before turning me into your example de jour. You just did it because I happened to be sitting there at the time. Thank you. 

You see, my “best” college years were spent in lecture halls of 400 or more idiot kids all taking BIO 101 (the first time) and a professor lecturing for God knows how long until you were finally released from the torturous monotony. The kind of classes where you can just read the book rather than show up, drink yourself half to death in the meantime, and get a B+/A- because you put the leg work behind it…you probably went to 3 lectures all semester (or maybe that was just me). But this school, this class…I can’t sneak by in anonymity; I can’t hide behind the 399 other students on any given day. 

Point is, thanks. I love my small classrooms, I love that every professor knows who I am and they definitely know at least one thing about me, if even just my major from the hokey intros we did the first day of classes. And it’s usually much more. I love that you hold me more personally responsible for my work, because I feel like there is a personal connection that is damaged when I don’t study your material. I actually really feel badly when I have to make excuses to you about assignments, probably because I know full well that you know that I’m better than that. And you know that I know it, too. You push me harder and make me better. Especially you, Dr. P., who picked on me this week in class (and PS: I think it’s pretty badass that you get to throw Dr. in front of your name). Your class is the hardest class I have *ever* taken, so I attack that shit like a beast. Challenge accepted. ✌🏻😘


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