Tag Part 2-In Which Feemus Learns an Important Lesson

I often use this blog to vent about the ridiculous and outrageous behavior of some of my students.

The 2am emails asking me to proofread an essay that's due at 10am. Followed by indignation when they are reminded that (1) I'm not their proofreader and (2) I am typically ASLEEP at 2am. Or at least not answering email.

The emails asking where Smith Hall is. How the hell should I know?

The emails saying: "I was running late for class today and didn't have any way to let you know. Can you give me your cell phone number in case it happens again?" WHAT????

The emails asking "Can you tell me what the main causes of the English Civil War were? I can't find anything about it online."

The emails saying: "cldnt mk it 2 clss 2day. cn u tell me wht i missd? thx."

The emails asking "Hey Feemus, you forgot to tell us what we're supposed to read. Do I have to do the reading? It's Monday and we meet tomorrow." Hmmm...the syllabus might help.

So one day, I get an email asking if I can provide "pronunciation brackets" for the characters' names in a French novel that we were reading in translation. Not my job, really. But not the most unreasonable request I'd gotten that day. What it was, though, was about the 37th such request I'd gotten that day.

I forwarded it to my friend Dave, who has a knack I lack for dissuading such e-requests but who is typically sympathetic to my plight. So I forward him the email with this, my own commentary, appended:

Hey Dave--

check out this email I just got--is this unbelievable, or what?? and considering that he will hear a lecture on this tomorrow, this is about the most relevant email since Ralph Nader wrote to ask what time he should show up for the debate.

how fucking lazy ARE these kids?

Here's how I feel like responding:

Dear Mr. Johnson,
I appreciate your enthusiasm for such a crucial feature of the work. I cannot
tell you how flattered I am to think that of all the resources available to
you, I am the one to whom you turn. Rather than waiting until lecture, or
consulting a French pronunciation guide, or asking a dorm-mate who speaks
French, I am honored that you have chosen instead to privilege MY opinion on
this serious matter over any other authority.

I am also flattered by the implicit compliment that you pay to my time
management skills. I am honored and humbled by your assumption that I am so
caught up with my own work as an educator and a scholar that I have nothing better to do than act as a consultant on questions that could be easily answered through any number of means. I am also so pleased to see you have the mental flexibility to not take "office hours" at face value. Anyone can drop by during office hours, but it takes a special cognitive fluidity to understand that "1-3 Tuesdays, 9-11 Fridays, or by appt." REALLY means "whenever I feel like it as long as the technology is available."

It also gives me great pleasure to note that you have not restricted your
question in anyway. I am certain that this will lead to many more delightful
email exchanges, when, after I send you a list of characters with "pronunciation brackets," you email back to query, "but what about..." Oh, Mr.
Johnson, I do see an enchanting conversation to come!!

Hope all is well, and please let me know if you need your dry-cleaning picked up
or your steak cut.

-Feemus

Which was a little harsh. But Dave has heard worse rants from me.

Ok, except I had NOT forwarded the email. I had hit "reply."

When I realized what I'd done, I actually threw up. This was several years ago and I STILL feel sick about it. I did a search through my "sent mail" for this exchange in order to write the post, and reading it is still like a punch in the gut. I am such a dick. That is an actual verbatim copy of what that student received (except that his name isn't really Johnson and mine--you may be shocked to hear it--isn't really Feemus).

As soon as I realized what I had done, I wrote an email containing what is quite possibly the most sincere apology ever written. Because in the instant that I realized what I'd done, I realized what I knew all along--that this kid was just trying to get by. Like all of us. Sure, if I answered every email that I got along these lines I'd never get anything else done. But he doesn't know what my inbox looks like.

I wrote to him and explained that I was a jerk. That my frustration had very little to do with him and that I had just used his email as an excuse to vent and to feebly attempt humor. That while I never ever meant for him to see my fake reply, it was still wildly unprofessional of me to be forwarding it to my friends. And I asked him to come see me during office hours or at his convenience so that I could apologize in person.

And......nothing.

I waited out a couple of the most tense days of my life. And then finally I heard a soft knock on my door. He walked in and said: "Sorry not to come see you sooner. But I was having a hard time figuring out what was going on. I mean, you seem so nice. And I don't know any Dave."

He let me apologize and he accepted graciously. We talked a little, and I only felt worse to discover that he was a transfer student from a less competitive institution (we get virtually none of these) and I got the sense that he was feeling a little anxious about being at a new school. Which, you know, ouch.

He turned out to be a really terrific guy and one of the most genuinely motivated students I've ever had. I'm not sure he ever really trusted me (can you blame him?), but he put more into getting an education than the rest of the class combined.

Although honestly, he could have done next to nothing and I would have given him an A.

Oh, the guilt.

I wish I'd learned some lasting moral lesson. That I'd learned patience and tolerance, to understand that each email that tries to extend my working day to 24 hours potentially has a really great person behind it who maybe was having a rough day themselves. I wish that was the case, but that mostly wore off in about two months worth of "Hey Feemus, my roommate didn't wake me up when he said he would. When can we meet to make up the class I missed?" Didn't wear off entirely, but mostly.

What I did learn was to double and triple check before sending a forwarded email.

Good luck to you, Mr. Johnson, wherever you are. I am still really really sorry.

And that is the story of one of the worst things I have done.