Pet Peeves

The semester is about two weeks old, and I've already collected a list of pet peeves. As I'm sure you love nothing more than reading about the things that bother, as my southern friends would say, "the tar" out of me, here they are:

1. The ultimate helicopter parent. When you're 22 years old, and you failed to register for classes in November, and also failed to notice a gigantic in-your-face-transcript hold on your account, please do not ask your mother to call the president's office to override said hold the day before classes start. And if you're that 22-year old's mother, please, for the sake of all academic advisers out there, do not pick up that phone. Why, you ask? Well, there are several reasons: 1) It makes your darling child look like a baby, 2) it teaches your lovely offspring absolutely nothing about this pesky little thing called personal responsibility, and 3) it puts several hours worth of work on people such as your child's adviser, the department chair, the dean, as well as the president. In other words, people who have a lot of other things on their mind, one of which is whether or not your child has acquired the necessary skills to graduate. Do you really, really want those people to call each other to discuss "the case with the student whose mom called the president's office"?
I didn't think so.

2. The total snowflake. The student who thinks their personal situation is so very, very special, they are not only allowed to miss every single class in the first two weeks of school because they "had financial aid issues to resolve", but that they're also entitled to a "personal meeting" with you, their instructor, to catch up on "everything they've missed". This student also firmly believes that by ending or starting the email with a capitalized compliment about how they're REALLY looking forward to your AWESOME class, they make up for the fact that they've effectively missed enough classes to lose one entire letter grade in the class.

3. The anxious over-achiever. Now, before I start in on this one, don't get me wrong, I love nothing more than dedicated students. Students who have read the material, done the homework, stop by your office with intelligent questions, and pay attention in class. But there's something about this type of student that drives me absolutely batty. The anxious overachiever will have called anywhere from two to five times the week before classes start to make sure they are enrolled in your class, that the book is available in the bookstore/on amazon/in the library, to make sure you know about their, legitimate or not, special needs, to confirm the class room and meeting time, or to just check in and make sure you know they're in your class and how much they're looking forward to it. Then during the first week of class, they will stop by your office every single day asking questions about the first homework assignment ("write down your goals for this class"), how they're supposed to turn it in (it's in the syllabus and has been discussed in class), how long it's supposed to be (ditto), when it's due again (ditto), and then turn the assignment in early (now, granted, there's nothing wrong with that, although it's a little eerie to hear it's because they're anxious about handing materials in in class). It's possible I'm slowly becoming an old curmudgeon, but next to helping said student shop for groceries and tucking them in at night, I'm pretty sure I've done all the hand holding that's humanly possible.

4. The eye-rolling back-row-hoggers. In short, the students who really, really don't want to be here. They only took the class because "it was the only elective that would fit their schedule", or they thought they were going to graduate, but realized they needed nine more credits, or they are just of the modest opinion that they have proven their worth somewhere halfway through their sophomore year, and should just handed that degree already. Every assignment makes them roll their eyes, sigh, or grumble about how much work this is. They've developed the annoying habit of shortening my last name to a ridiculous nickname, show up late, and use their phones to make sure their hair still looks good.

Only fifteen more weeks until the end of the semester, and I so help me God, I will turn every single one of these little darlings into my very favorite student: The Critical, Engaged Thinker.