Source: Creative Commons

When I decided to make the switch from the media business to academia, I had several expectations. I expected teaching to be easy; the students would be serious observers of the media, that they would find my lectures and career background interesting, and that they would give me their undivided attention. Before my first week ended I realized how delusional I had been.

Some of my students are focused, some are asleep, some are engaged, and others are texting. Some are impressed with the awards in my office while others are puzzled as to why I left the industry to teach at a small college. Others are wondering how soon I will leave as many of their other professors have left after short stints in the department.

I didn’t anticipate having to consider the needs of students with physical and learning disabilities. I’m so inspired by one young man’s courage. He nearly died in a car accident and was told by doctors he would never walk again. One year later, he’s strolling slowly, still reporting for the campus newspaper, singing in the choir and striving to excel in his classes despite his short-term memory loss.

The greatest surprise has been my unofficial role as counselor. Homesickness, dating issues, campus clique conflicts, no big deal. However, the semester has taken a serious turn. I’ve had to deal with plagiarism, rape, a student depressed about her friend’s murder, parents with troubled marriages, student marriage, and abortion. I listen, refer them to see the real counselors, worry, encourage them to stay in school and indicate that they can email assignments when they are crying too much to come to class. I also pray.

In my mind undergrad was such an idealistic time. I’ve learned that real life happens on campus and sometimes it’s a very tough lesson for those on both sides of the desk.

Air Kisses,

Professor Diva Mac