Professors are people, too!

A thank you letter to my teachers.

During my freshman year of college, most of my classes were on Zoom (amidst the pandemic horrors that ransacked my college campus. And by horrors, I mean the abnormally strict rules). To me, my professors were pretty much just their title: a professor. They took attendance, lectured, assigned work, and graded it. That’s it (because, honestly, that’s all they could do). Being bereft of socially communicating and building personal connections with others prevented me from growing (or even wanting to grow) in relationship with my professors in a manner that was more than just academic. Once in a while my professors would make a joke that had me chuckling behind my mask, but I largely didn’t think of them as anything other than a teacher.

There were a couple professors that I enjoyed because of the fun we managed to have in class. In my intro to political science class, we played a game where we had to rewrite the Constitution, so my classmates and I wrote a new law called Toga Day. Toga Day was a Constitutional mandate requiring all U.S. citizens to wear a toga every September 25th. If a citizen failed to sport a toga, they’d be put to death. Our professor let it slide, given the rest of our Constitution was quite democratic and similar to the one the Founders wrote. When September 25th rolled around, we actually decided that we’d all attend Zoom class with togas on (cause we didn’t want to be put to death). We wondered if our professor would show up in white garb.

He did. I still have the screenshot of all of us laughing in Zoom as he entered his screen wearing a bedsheet over his work attire. The craziest part to this was that unbeknownst to us, the day we decided to wear our bedsheets to class, the university’s provost was sitting in and evaluating our professor. That’s when I knew: this guy is more than a professor, he’s cool.

My same group of classmates also took a hybrid theology class together that year. We became comfortable enough with our professor (who was teaching from the classroom) that we decided to play a little joke over Zoom. My professor was sure to mention that he was Italian and hated Olive Garden (as any real Italian should, apparently). To pull his leg, a few of my classmates and I changed our Zoom backgrounds to Olive Garden themed pictures. The classroom projector displayed all of us on the board in front of the class along with our backgrounds of the Olive Garden storefront, various pasta dishes, dessert, and breadsticks. For the whole hour and fifteen minutes, we chuckled on screen and texted in our group chat saying, “Wait till he notices.” Our friends in the classroom couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

Silly, right? (GV Fan Club forever!)

Well, our professor never looked at the board once. Never noticed the full-course meal that was right behind him. It wasn’t until at least two years later when we told him what we did that he laughed out loud in appreciation of our humor.

Fun times like those were the first instances in which I realized that maybe these professors were more than just their job. They were funny to me, which meant their personalities were more than just being incredibly smart about their field of study. However, with hindsight, I realize that I still took those instances for granted because I didn’t think anything of strengthening my relationships with my professors. That was until I felt guilty for how I treated one of them.

I took a hybrid math class that was taught by a very sweet old man. He had a gentle voice, thick Boston accent, he loved wearing Boston sports clothes, and always always made sure we understood the content we were learning before moving onto the next unit. I remember thinking, this man is probably an awesome grandfather. Because of the pandemic, seats in the classroom were first come first serve, and on the first day of class I walked into the classroom with my roommate only to find that there was one seat left (to which she immediately beelined and took, thanks a lot). My professor told me, “I guess you will have to take class on Zoom today,” and sent me back to my dorm with a red face. The next day, I figured I might as well save myself the embarrassment of being sent out of class again, so I logged onto Zoom expecting class to be like the day before. It wasn’t.

The classroom was empty except for one boy sitting in the front row and my professor waiting for others to show up. But everyone was online. Our professor invited us to come back to the classroom, but from that day on, he was alone there except for the one student who went. I felt badly that I was too lazy to go to class in person, but I still didn’t put it on myself to do so. On the last day of class, he softly said, “Well, I had a great semester teaching you all, but I wish you had come to the classroom. It would have been nice to get to know you more.”

My heart sank. I guiltily sighed. It was in that moment I learned that professors are more than professors. They are people, too. That sweet old man took the teaching job not just so he could write equations on a board and grade mediocre exams, but so he could know students, be friendly with them, build impactful relationships. There was so much more to him as a person that I utterly failed to recognize. I never saw that professor again, but I will never forget him and the life lesson he taught me. From then on, I took initiative to truly know my teachers.

Over the next 3 years, I actively built up my relationships with my professors. I stayed after class to talk about academic and non-academic interests, I stopped my workouts at the gym to start conversations, I randomly dipped into their offices to ask “Do you have a minute?” and then just talk about life, I sought employment opportunities through them, I left notes on their office doors to surprise them with a nice greeting, I emailed them articles or songs that I thought they would like. Getting to know them as people, not just professors, is what made college exquisite. Through taking initiative with these relationships, I made friends out of geniuses who appreciated me for who I was - a student who cared about more than just academics. I also learned to appreciate them for who they were - a teacher that cared about more than just academics. By getting to know them, their colorful and deep personalities came to life. And they were incredible.

Out of this growth came things I didn’t expect. First, being friendly with my professors made learning in the classroom so much more enjoyable. Instead of feeling like I was being lectured to by a particularly smart robot (cue the WUH-WAH-WAH Charlie Brown chatter), I was absorbing information about the world from the point of view of someone I actually cared about. I wanted to hear what they had to say and I wanted to know it well. I valued their feedback on my assignments because I knew that it was something they meant to give. Second, professional opportunities were handed to me on a silver platter, whether they were through professors who requested my help with their own work, through recommendation letters they were more than willing to write, or through career recommendations and advice. My professional and interpersonal skills increased tenfold because of their eagerness to help me grow and succeed as an adult.

Lastly, and most importantly, my professors made me feel like I belong. Yes at my university, but more so here in this world. These extremely intelligent and talented people took time our of their packed schedules to talk, laugh, pray, and even sing with me. All those times I knocked on their office doors and asked for “just a minute” were times they used to grade papers or exams. But every time they’d put their pens down, smile, and ask me to sit so we could talk about anything and everything under the sun for an hour. They’d ask me about my life and they’d tell me about theirs. They’d inquire about my opinions on current events, my sport, or philosophies. They’d beam in admiration when I told them about my passions. They’d tell me to send them the link to this blog so they could read about who I am as more than just their student (and then subscribe, wow). They’d ask about my family and make an effort to get to know them (one actually sat with my family at my graduation, wow). They’d tear up when telling others how much they appreciated my company throughout the semester (WOW). There have been so many things my professors did for me that make me think, wow, I am quite lucky to have these people in my life.

Nothing could beat the times when I said something that made them tilt their head in thought, as if just for a moment, I was the professor and they were the student. Those moments when someone with a PhD learned something new from me, an undergraduate with little life experience, showed me that we all have a place in this world. We all have something to give. No matter how young, inexperienced, or uneducated we may be, there is something we contribute to this place that only we can contribute. Reader, there is no one else on this planet that can leave their mark quite like you can. We were made uniquely and powerfully - don’t underestimate your ability to reflect that into the world.

This serves as a thank you letter to my professors, who taught me that I have so much more to give than I thought possible. Thank you for supporting me, believing in me, and giving me hope that I truly am worth something great. You deserve more recognition than you get, not just as professors, but also as leaders, mentors, inspirations, and friends. This lesson that I learned about you is unforgettable, as you have helped shape me into who I am today. I hope that someday I can influence others the way you have influenced me.

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