So I am exhausted, and I don’t have a lot of things to say.
Here’s the thing: I had a student who burst into tears over a C paper today (when others in the class got required revisions, so seriously: she’s in good shape, especially because there is no penalty for revision if she wants to revise, for it is a writing class) and I had to give the talk about how great her C was, plus tell her to stop crying because a) I didn’t have kleenex and b) I would start crying if she kept it up.
And also I had papers come in from my seniors in my upper-level course, and they all felt very insecure and thought the papers would never be what I wanted.
And also I had other papers come in from my gen ed lit students, and they also felt great fear and trepidation about them.
I am probably one of the most available and accessible and helpful professors in my department. But it turns out I’m motherfucking scary. Which is bizarre to me, on one level. On another level? If I scare the shit out of you and it brings you to greater heights as a thinker? That is me doing my job.
Still? I wish that I didn’t traumatize them. I wish I didn’t have to.