I Don't Advise Students Anymore

I don’t advise students about anything, though at one time I took on the role of advisor in return for a reduction in hours talking to myself in front of a bunch of brain dead students. I don’t do that anymore.

Wait. I still talk to myself in front of a bunch of brain dead students, but I give no advice.

I can’t really advise a student whether this course or that course will benefit him in his career choice. Will a course devoted to the Arthurian poem “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight” help him in his pursuit of a career as a professor of the English language? Hell if I know. I haven’t read it, and I’m not interested in reading it. My advice would be to see if Spark Notes or Cliff’s Notes have anything that addresses Arthurian poetry. (Those publications are considered forbidden texts even though the literary criticism contained therein is written by esteemed scholars). Giving such advice would get me into trouble in a heartbeat.

But it isn’t just advising about academic courses that proves problematic. When I was an advisor, I heard numerous complaints about other tenured professors who engaged in not-so-subtle harassment and racial discrimination in class. I heard repeated complaints about an African American Literature teacher who made frequent remarks that offended and angered white students. Her behavior was so offensive that eventually most (if not all) of the enrolled white students dropped her class before the end of the semester. Worse, the one student who tried to tough it out woke up too late to the fact that the playing field wasn’t nearly level. A common complaint was that the professor gave in-class writing assignments then left the class for forty minutes. As soon as the professor left the room, the black students pulled out completed papers and spent the rest of the class talking until the professor returned to the room. The black students were (somehow) given the assignment beforehand.

The white student had a legitimate Title IX complaint against the professor, but because only one white student remained in that professor’s African American Literature class, it was the student’s word against the professor’s. Every year, I heard the same complaint about the same professor. Students felt that I had a responsibility to report the professor. I may have had some sort of ethical responsibility to say something to the department chair, but doing so would have caused problems for me. Members of a university department behave pretty much the same way that members of a police force behave. They close ranks and protect their own no matter how serious or believable the charge may be.

I refuse to get involved in such matters. The student may take it up with the dean of the college or some committee that addresses such complaints if he has the nerve, but I always advised against it. My advice was for the student to take it on the chin and move on. After he graduates and enters the “real” world, he’ll probably encounter much worse ethical violations. That’s when filing a complaint might actually make a difference. In the world of scholarship and the pursuit of educational fulfillment, complaints will gain nothing but a bad reputation.

I no longer give helpful advice. Moreover, I won’t listen to complaints. Complaints threaten my open door policy.