As a freshman in college, I managed to talk my way into an upper level art history course taught by a visiting professor from Johns Hopkins University. He was gorgeous. Everyone thought so. I know this because I volunteered to collect the student evaluations at the end of the term and most of them said things like “hottie” and “super cute.”
Not mine, of course—I was more dignified than that—and even though I agreed with my classmates, I was incredulous when I saw their comments.
Fast forward ten (yes, ten!) years and I’m reading my own student evaluations now. Most were extremely complimentary this last time around and a few even contained phrases like, “my favorite professor,” and “I wish there were more anthropology classes” (to be perfectly honest, I got a little misty-eyed just reading them) but then… then there were the others.
“The kid who sat next to me scared the crap out of me.”
“Why is this class so late at night?”
And finally, my personal favorite, “Professor Richter, your [sic] really sweet and nice and have pretty hair.”
Well if that’s not going to earn me tenure, I don’t know what will!