Distance between students, teachers growing

By Christie Genocho

We're not little kids anymore. We aren't OshKosh B'Gosh-attired three-year-olds incapable of blowing our noses or tying our shoes. We don't need Mom to make our lunches or Dad to wake us up in time for class. We are reasoning, thinking, logical human beings capable of making our own decisions, right?

So why aren't we being treated as such?

I came to college expecting to make an abundance of friends, to find people of all shapes, sizes, ages and races arriving in droves to make my acquaintance. I expected at least some of these friendships to be with my professors, "Tuesdays with Morrie"-style. I imagined intelligent conversations of unspeakable profundity, enlightenment achieved through respectful discourse with a learned faculty trying unremittingly to impart some of their knowledge upon eager, fertile young minds.

Instead I found detachment and alienation, maybe a little disdain and several professors who hardly remember my name.

I always assumed that the distance between students and teachers would disappear, or at least dwindle, in college. As adults, we would be treated with more respect and equality, the professors would relate to us as friends and members of the university community.

But in many cases, our professors hardly know who we are.

This isn't to say that none of the faculty is connecting with the students. In fact, it's quite the contrary. There are certainly professors here who are commendable members of the pedagogy, people who have truly captivated their students, engaged and inspired them. Their commitment and dedication is laudable and greatly appreciated.

And yet, it seems as though these are the exceptions to the rule, anomalies in their field. On the whole, students and professors seem estranged from one another, segregated by age and position. We pass each other in the halls with nary a smile or greeting. We often attend class, maybe even take notes, and then walk out the door the moment the clock's hands signal our release, rarely bothering to say goodbye to or even look at the person we've just listened to for the last hour.

We are at a university, embedded in the heart of academia, endeavoring to gain knowledge and experience in order to learn and to grow in preparation for our entry into the "real world," the world found beyond the walls of a classroom. Professors are here to teach, to imbue us with an education that will unfetter our minds and improve our lives post-graduation. Given the synergistic relationship between students and faculty -- our duty to learn and theirs to teach -- it seems obvious that everyone would benefit from improved interaction.

As students, we need professors to teach us about life, both in and out of the classroom. We need to learn by example, not by force or mandate--we need to be inspired. At the same time, we need to feel responsible for our own lives and educations, we need to take control and make our own decisions, without relying on our advisors to choose our classes or on our teachers to grade on the curve.

Not long ago a professor advised me that it would behoove students to take a couple of years off after high school to grow up before coming to college. He said that faculty members often look at freshmen with derision because of their youth and inexperience, because of the diaphanous veil of childhood still clinging to them as they walk through campus for the first time, wide-eyed and teeming with frenetic energy. He said that at 18 or 19 we aren't yet emotionally mature enough to take full advantage of higher education, that it's a waste of two year's education to begin college while so young and verdant.

I think he's wrong.

If 20-year-olds are more mature than 18-year-olds on campus, it's because they've spent the last two years living here, amongst their peers, learning to manage their own lives and growing in sapience with each class, quarter and year. We aren't here because our parents are dying to spend $36,000 a year on us, or because we really enjoy filling out scholarship and financial aid applications. We aren't here because we have some latent desire to feast upon cafeteria comestibles for another four years. We aren't here because we scorn sleep and want to see if it's possible to completely annihilate our REM cycles.

Maybe we are a little young. Maybe we are a little gauche. Maybe we can be a little reckless on the weekends, choosing to guzzle rather than sip our first drink of independence.

But the bottom line is that we're here for an education; we're here to grow up. And the transition into the working world, into the grown-up world, will be all the smoother with the support and understanding of the faculty and administration. That means we want to be talked to, related to, given affirmation that we are young adults with valid thoughts and opinions, no longer silly children satisfied with a pat on the head and a placating handful of Gummi Bears.

This doesn't mean that faculty members should make a point of stopping by Alvisos on Friday nights to chat with students about derivatives or the Defenestration of Prague. We just want to be able to communicate openly and honestly, to share a joke, a tear or maybe even a cup of coffee after class. The distance between students and faculty here is needless and a hindrance to the formation of a real community of scholars, the kind of community one expects to find at a small liberal arts college.

Of course, it's not just the responsibility of the professors to reach out to the students; it must be a mutual effort. We have to earn their respect if we're going to get it, to prove to them that we're adult enough to be friends with the grown-ups. If we want to be treated like adults, we have to start acting like them first.