Prof Stein

I knew her as Professor Stein and I hated her. Well, the truth is, I didn’t hate her, I just hated everything she stood for. Prof. Stein was a college professor and one of the courses she taught was called “Tools For Academic Success”. The small community college I attended in the early 1990s required that course, which was worth all of one credit, to be taken by all students before the end of their sophomore year. I had resisted it as long as I could and by the end of my sophomore year (which was actually a year and a half, as I didn’t take a full course load), I had built up a substantial quantity of resentment toward the school for placing this hurdle in my path to academic glory. I was, by that time, a very successful student. I usually had a 4.0 average in my classes, with an occasional 3.5 thrown in if the class time fell during the time of day when I couldn’t stay awake.

When I went to college, I was what they called a “returning student”, meaning that I wasn’t fresh out of high school. I was a more or less cash strapped 22 year-old working full time on the night shift (11pm to 8am) at a supermarket and taking classes during the day. I tried to schedule my classes so that they began right after work when I could, but that wasn’t always possible. On more than one occasion, I missed a late morning/early afternoon class because I fell asleep sitting up on the couch in my apartment with my backpack and car keys sitting on the cushion next to me. That explains those 3.5s. There are two things that I had very little of during those early days of college. Money and time. I despised anyone who forced me to waste either of those and Professor Stein’s class was a waste of both. So when I walked into that classroom for the first time I knew that I would be unable to hide my resentment and honestly, I was kind of glad to finally have someone to let it out on.

I wore my hostility like a badge of honor. I’d arrive for class early enough to slam my book down on my desk, plop into the chair and sit with my arms folded and head tilted to one side and ooze defiance as the other students straggled in. I’d sit through lectures with titles like, “How to Make Friends” and “Effective Highlighting Technique” and practically explode with rage if any of the idiots who were in this class because they needed it dared to ask a question.

“Is it ok if I use an orange highlighter?”*

“If I’m not sure what’s important and what’s not, should I just highlight the whole chapter?”*

*Actual questions

I took every opportunity to share my frustrations with Prof. Stein. Once, she assigned a one-page essay on “How I can improve my study habits”. My essay read like this:

I could greatly improve my study time by not wasting time in classes I clearly don’t need, such as this one.

After handing in several essays along those same lines, it started to become evident that my point wasn’t getting through to anyone. I guess I had expected to be sitting at home one day when the doorbell would ring and I’d answer the door to find a smartly uniformed delivery man handing me a certified letter from the Head of North American Education excusing me from the class and apologizing for his grievous error. Then I could march into school and slap the letter down on Prof. Stein’s desk with a curt “Told ya”. That no longer seemed likely, since by now we were almost halfway through the semester. So I replaced the somewhat vague “HONOR STUDENT” part of my signature with a more detailed list of what I had accomplished in college before (Gasp!) I was forced into taking Schoolin’ Fer Dummies 101. As a result, my essays sounded like they were written by a dangerously unstable job applicant.

I was not, as you can imagine, Professor Stein’s favorite student.

Oh, she tried her best to get me to lighten up. She told me that true students are open to new experiences and can always learn something from those experiences. She warned me that the university I was planning to transfer to might not be as easy for me as the community college was and I might need some of the things she was teaching to be a successful in the future as I was then. I would have none of it. I was still angry at the injustice of being forced to take and pay for a class that I didn’t need. I had tried endless, and admittedly tiresome, complaining. I had tried being relentlessly uncooperative and I had tried including my accomplishments and credentials in every assignment yet I still hadn’t been excused from this class. We were midway through the semester and time was running out, so I had only one move left.

I took a job with the college as a tutor.

Now, I was a paid educator. Now, Professor Stein and I were equals, at least in my eyes. She was an employee of the college. I was an employee of the college. She was a teacher. I was a teacher. It didn’t matter to me that my classroom was the tutoring lab where I sat behind a desk waiting for some freshman to show up looking for help with an algebra problem or a verb conjugation problem. Mostly, the people who came to the tutoring lab just wanted somewhere quiet to work on their homework and it was my job to be quiet and let them. That worked out well for me also, since I was exhausted anyway from working all night and taking classes in the mornings. I was half-asleep for most of the time I spent in the lab, but it was well worth it. I was employed by an institution of higher learning to teach students and, more importantly, I could make it very clear to Professor Stein that, since the college trusted me to teach its students, clearly I had no need for her class. I’d say things like, “I hope the class doesn’t run long today. I have a full afternoon scheduled in the tutoring lab.”

By now, though, the semester was beginning to wind down and I had begun to accept that I’d have to just finish out the class and get it over with. There would be no official pardon, no certified letter and no refund. It was near the end of November when Prof. Stein returned to us our graded essays entitled “College Resources and How to Use Them”. Neatly written in red pen just beneath my signature and credentials, which now included, “Paid Educator” were the words, “See Me”.

See Me?

What could that possibly mean? Why would she want to see me? Maybe this was it! Maybe she had finally seen the light. The tutoring lab thing must have been the key to making her understand. It could be that she wanted to ask me to take over the class for the final few weeks. I could imagine the other students listening intently to my words and thinking, “He was just like me, once. Maybe I can make something of my life too.” What an accomplishment! I had done it. I had shown them all. I had transcended the entire college experience. I waited for the others to leave the classroom and approached Prof. Stein’s desk.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Mr. Chambers. You’ve been very up front with me regarding your academic accomplishments, have you not?”

“I may have mentioned it at some point.” I smiled, still trying to remain humble.

“President’s list, Dean’s list” she continued.

“That’s right. Mostly As with an occasional B thrown in if I slept through the class.” I laughed at my own joke. She didn’t.

“Looks like you may have been sleeping through my class. I wanted to let you know that you currently have a D in this class, but there is still time for you to improve upon that, if you take it more seriously.”

“What?”

“I wonder how a D would affect your status on the President’s or Dean’s list.” She said, clearly having trouble containing her glee. “What might the students in the tutoring lab think?”

I was in shock. I was on the verge of ruining my honor student status as a result of the very class that my honor student status should have excused me from.

“Are you messing with me?” I asked.

“No.”

“Professor Stein, listen, I know I’ve been kind of a jerk about your class and I know it’s not completely your fault that I’m here, but some days it’s all I can do to stay awake in Physics and Calculus. I’m busting my butt to be here and it just kills me to sit here every day in a class I could have tested out of if I’d had the chance. I had to pay for this class, which won’t transfer to the university anyway, just to get the Associates Degree that I’ve been working for three years to get. Can’t you give me a break?”

“John, I understand your situation and your frustration, but do you really think that you’re the only student to come through here who has to work a full-time job and study and attend all of the required courses? Many of my students are single parents who do all of that, get good grades AND raise a family. So this isn’t about who should take the class and who should be excused from it. This is about you being presented with a challenge, and you either have to face it and overcome it or let it take you down. It’s your choice. You should realize that you have all the power here. Succeed or fail, it’s all up to you.” And for the first time all semester, I actually opened my mind and used it for something other than revenge and false moral outrage. She was right. Professor Stein was right. Some of the energy I put into fighting this situation could have been better spent in conquering those challenges. If I were to earn a low grade in her class, I’d only be serving to justify the very situation I was trying to eliminate.

And that is one of the most valuable things I learned in college. You can strive toward what should be. You can try to prevent what should not be. But you can never ignore what is.

I spent the month following my conversation with Professor Stein working as hard as I’d ever worked to get the “B-“ I eventually earned in her class. I was still an honor student. I was still on the Dean’s List, but I was a much different and better student and also a different and better person after taking her class. It just took a while for me to realize it.

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Thanks,

John