Mr. Monk Is My Father's Name

Over at the Maclean's academic blogs, Scott Dobson-Mitchell has an interesting piece about calling his professors by their first names. Mr. Dobson-Mitchell, a pre-med fresher, was surprised and made a little uncomfortable by his instructors' requests to drop any formality in the classroom. I would not wish to say, definitively, that I have been navigating this issue since Mr. Dobson-Mitchell was in elementary school, but the issue is certainly long-standing.

I suspect that, in North America, it has its roots in campus upheavals of the 1960s. (What does not?) But I felt it, increasingly, as the tuition structure changed and students were encouraged to think of me as their service provider, while I was encouraged to think of them as my customers. I hope to be on friendly terms with "Robert," the nice man who repairs my windshield, so why would I be surprised that students started thinking of me as "Craig," the slightly-less-nice fellow who grades their papers?

As they navigate university politics, you can hardly blame students for being confused. "Professor" is the highest rank we can achieve in our profession, and I certainly know of colleagues who have dropped "Doctor" and assumed "Professor" upon promotion: "Do not call me Dr. Smith; I am Professor Smith." However, we also grant "Professor" to the terminal M.A.s and doctoral students who work with us, allowing them a gracious way in which to address the question of their qualifications: "Do not call me Dr. Smith; I am Professor Smith." Who would not question what to call whom?

So, how do I approach the issue of names? Trained in the United Kingdom, and conscious of the kinds of traditions important to education, I began teaching as "Dr. Monk," and I referred to my students by their surnames. In that "Bennett" or "Mr. Bennett" could become, say, "Jason," over time, I accepted that I could become "Craig." I imagined that this increased familiarity was a mark of longstanding collaboration, used mostly by my best and most frequent students who knew me best. Like many newly-minted D.Phil.s (or Ph.D.s), I used to demand that I was "Dr. Monk," but like all edges these got rubbed off over time. Now. anyone can call me "Craig" out of the spirit of bonhomie I have described above, but I do object to it being used dismissively: "Craig! Where's the refill on my coffee?" If students are my customers, I tell them, they certainly do not get table service. I also object when students whom I do not know write me demanding letters that draw on my administrative function: "Hi, Craig. I wrote you last night about appealing my grade in Chemistry, but you did not write back." These students are likely to get this reply: "Dear Ms Bennett. I am sorry for the formality, but I do not believe we have met. It is unreasonable to expect a reply from the office of the Associate Dean in eight hours, particularly when these eight hours are customarily used for sleep."

There are two situations that always seem to get a disproportionate rise from me, though. First, I do not like being called "Mr. Monk." This is less about an objection to "Mister" than it is about my certainty that people cannot distinguish between what we do and what junior high schools do. You most commonly see this with students who think they are in Grade Fifteen, or from parents who think I am a figure from Ferris Bueller's Day Off, sworn to thwart the ambitions of their kids in Grade Fifteen. Second, I hate being called "Monk." This over-familiarity is not, as with the British interaction between professor and student, a charming reflection of educational tradition. It is brazen disrespect. I accept that it is part of the culture of behind-our-backs hall whispering, the kind of sideswiping that finds its way to ratemyprofessor.com, but I do not have to endure it to my face. There was once a young man who used to yell to "Monk" in the middle of a packed lecture hall, but he soon dropped my class. He did not accept that "Monk" could make any demand of civility upon his manner. I wonder if he ended up providing someone table service?

Comments

[Rohan Maitzen]

I resent "Miss" and "Ma'am" with equal passion, if for somewhat different reasons...

Like you, I am likely to respond with heightened formality to the inappropriately chummy email ("Yo, prof!"). Even setting aside what you and I might consider ordinary etiquette, I think it is important to resist the "student as client/consumer" mentality by insisting on our credentials, frankly. There's a reason my judgment of their essay counts more than theirs--and that they pay for the opportunity to discuss literature with me (and get course credit for it) instead of hanging out at the coffee shop with their buddies swapping opinions. It may make me seem stuffy or hierarchical, but using my (hard-earned) title is one strategy I use to try to clarify this for them.

I have wondered if the status/authority thing is more of a problem for female faculty members than for male.