Professor: Interrupted

You know, I've finally discovered why I get so upset when students barge into my office with irrelevant questions, remarks, and requests. It's not so much that they see me as their personal office supply close ("Can I borrow your stapler?", "Do you have a pen?"), their computer lab assistant, (" OMG, Dr. D., my printer died, can I use yours?"), or their general personal counselor ("You really need to help me to decide where I want to go to grad school"). It really isn't about that. I can handle a million requests like that, providing I have nothing to do. What's annoying about them is that they constitute an interruption. And when I'm trying to grade papers, write up a lesson plan, or get started on a content analysis, these constant interruptions feel like chickens pecking me to death.

When I was little, one of the three elementary schools I attended (I told you I moved a lot) was a Montessori school. I loved that school. I loved how you got to learn through doing (fractions made a lot more sense when I got to use red plastic pie pieces), how each student set their own weekly schedule, and kept track of their progress themselves, and how students had to interact with each other through a strictly enforced honor code. There was no name calling at that school. And after having suffered as a victim of bullying since kindergarten, that was such a relief. Bullying was almost non-existent at this school. Teachers had eyes in the back of their heads, and if they saw anything out of the ordinary, they would call a class meeting. One other thing that that school required, was that students not interrupt their peers while they were working. If you wanted to approach someone during class, you were supposed to ask, "Am I interrupting you?", and if they said yes, you were expected to leave. And if someone did actually start talking to you while you were busy, all you had to say was "You're interrupting me". Years after we had moved away, my brother and I would still tell each other "You're interrupting me". No yelling, no hurt feelings, no apologies, just, "you're interrupting me".


As a teacher, I'm obviously supposed to say that I wish my all of my students had gone to a Montessori school too, so they would know how to plan and motivate themselves. So that a 17-week syllabus makes them reach for their planner instead of their hair. And I do wish that. But in all honesty, I wish even more that they too learned how to properly interrupt someone, and take their leave when they're obviously coming in at a bad time.

That last part, you know, the part about knowing when is a good time to come in and talk, that seems to be the hardest for some of my students. It doesn't matter if my desk is covered in papers, books, and I'm obviously grading, the students will still walk in and start talking. It doesn't matter if I'm on the phone, they'll come in anyway. It doesn't even matter if I'm eating lunch, they'll come in, sit down, and start talking. It doesn't even matter whether or not  my door is shut. They'll just knock and knock and knock and knock and knock as I've obviously forgotten to open my door and welcome them and their endless queries into my life.In fact, even when I tell them I'm busy, some of them will just keep going, albeit prefaced with a "But I promise this will only take a minute".

Yes, but in a minute, my lunch will be cold.

People, you must believe me when I tell you I'm a really social person. I love talking to people. I even love interruptions from time to time. But right now, what I really want, is for everyone to take the hint and please. Leave. Me. Alone.

Thanks.