It’s been almost 3 years since I graduated from college, and I’m starting to get nostalgic for certain parts of the experience – the spontaneity of being able to see most of my friends within a matter of minutes; joining the ritualistic rush of students spilling out across campus, each of us on our own trajectories yet part of the same throng; stumbling over brick walkways in impractical shoes; and the teachers who defined the tone and potential of each semester.
My friend Sam found this TikTok, an ode to the “emotional support Chaotic Good English professor,” a type immediately recognizable to anyone who’s taken a literature course. The William & Mary English department seemingly abounds with absent-minded professors because each person in the group chat automatically thought of a different person – mine was a Brontë expert with floor-length skirts, untamed curls, comically thick glasses and an air of perpetual distraction. She invited my class to her home on the day of our final to drink her husband’s homemade cider, sit on her squashy couches, pet her dogs and watch To Walk Invisible, a BBC One TV film about the Brontës’ relationship to fame and art.
I have no shortage of memorable professor moments, though not all of them are quite as tender – there was the professor who said she should know how to pronounce my last name because she has “a friend from China” and then just moved on to the next person on the attendance list when I told her that I’m Korean, actually; the professor who let us know within minutes of our first class that she’s bisexual; the professor who politely but firmly told me that I was reaching when I argued that the Green Knight and Gawain wanted to kiss (boo I’m right, and the bisexual professor would probably agree with me); and the creative writing professor who was the first person to ever tell me I’m a writer.
God I wish that were me
I’ve been thinking about all of them this week, mostly because of the aforementioned TikTok but also because of all the snow. You’d think I’d have realized by now that adulthood is just a series of unmet expectations, but waking up to snow and having to continue working remotely as if nothing miraculous was happening outside was a new low. I miss the giddiness of a real snow day and my professors’ poorly formatted emails about cancelled classes and adjusted reading schedules and bad snow puns.
Tell me about the people you miss.
Who are you guys missing this week? They could be people you haven’t seen in years and were reminded of because of the snow (i.e. emotional support professors) or people you can’t see because of the pandemic – family living across the country from you, the hot guy on your commute with whom you’ve crafted an elaborate romantic narrative in your head based on fleeting eye contact, friends of friends you don’t know well enough to FaceTime but who you would’ve run into at a party in non-pandemic times, the food truck workers who called you “honey” while giving you the best chicken sandwich you’ve ever eaten, those guys who wore suits to class every day and are probably losing their minds over the GameStop saga, or even aggressively judgmental Zara cashiers.
Who are/were your emotional support professors? Or more generally, who do you wish you could see again?
This is an open discussion thread, so please feel free to discuss in the comment section!
More an experience than a person, but I would kill to walk into a bar or restaurant and be pleasantly surprised by a live band. Of course, I want to destroy my lungs and ear drums at a huge concert, but there's something so delightful about sitting with my friends at a high top table while four dudes play covers of 70s yacht rock. Or walking into a club expecting to hear a DJ play the same top 40 remixes (don't get me wrong, would still dance my ass off), and instead see a full band warming up with "Stacy's Mom". Nearly impossible to replicate the excitement of the live band experience virtually!
live music!!! What a concept. The closest I can get now is me trying to remember old piano pieces I used to have memorized, and it really does not work as a substitute let me tell you
I miss attractive strangers. It used to be really thrilling to brush hands with the hot barista or create a mini romance about the person I ended up next to on the metro. That type of in the moment yearning is totally gone now and it’s hard to stage a mental meet cute when you can’t see someone’s face!! I miss having a crush on someone for all 20 minutes of my commute and then forgetting about them immediately after.
I miss my commute more than I ever expected to — not only because of the exposure to strangers I could fantasize about but also because it was a physical and mental way to put distance between my work life and personal existence
I truly miss casual acquaintances so much. I’m not one to remember names very easily, so it was always sort of a stressful situation being at an intimate pregame or house party and spotting someone whose name I should fully remember because it quickly becomes apparent that they fully remember mine. However, like many things in the current world, I now miss that sort of rush! The situation could either turn into an awkward encounter through which you can only tug at your collar, chuckle, and try to get your friends’ attention to save you, or it could parlay into a really great new friend! Either way it felt like a main character moment, but the stakes were always low — you could sort of play a caricature of yourself if you wanted. Oh to be perched awkwardly on a stranger’s couch figuring out how to play the drinking game while avoiding names...
Wow, I miss parties so much. I think I’m more introverted than you are, so 9 times out of 10 I’d probably be the casual acquaintance who remembers someone’s name and can tell, painfully, that they can’t remember mine. But it would be a funny story I could tell others, or at the very least something that happened to me that wasn’t bleak or mundane to the magnitude of most things in my life these days.
Right, like there’s always some minor insignificant “gossip” to gab about on your way home with the close friends you came with, and that-one-person who forgot your name could surely be in the mix!
More an experience than a person, but I would kill to walk into a bar or restaurant and be pleasantly surprised by a live band. Of course, I want to destroy my lungs and ear drums at a huge concert, but there's something so delightful about sitting with my friends at a high top table while four dudes play covers of 70s yacht rock. Or walking into a club expecting to hear a DJ play the same top 40 remixes (don't get me wrong, would still dance my ass off), and instead see a full band warming up with "Stacy's Mom". Nearly impossible to replicate the excitement of the live band experience virtually!
live music!!! What a concept. The closest I can get now is me trying to remember old piano pieces I used to have memorized, and it really does not work as a substitute let me tell you
I miss attractive strangers. It used to be really thrilling to brush hands with the hot barista or create a mini romance about the person I ended up next to on the metro. That type of in the moment yearning is totally gone now and it’s hard to stage a mental meet cute when you can’t see someone’s face!! I miss having a crush on someone for all 20 minutes of my commute and then forgetting about them immediately after.
I miss my commute more than I ever expected to — not only because of the exposure to strangers I could fantasize about but also because it was a physical and mental way to put distance between my work life and personal existence
I truly miss casual acquaintances so much. I’m not one to remember names very easily, so it was always sort of a stressful situation being at an intimate pregame or house party and spotting someone whose name I should fully remember because it quickly becomes apparent that they fully remember mine. However, like many things in the current world, I now miss that sort of rush! The situation could either turn into an awkward encounter through which you can only tug at your collar, chuckle, and try to get your friends’ attention to save you, or it could parlay into a really great new friend! Either way it felt like a main character moment, but the stakes were always low — you could sort of play a caricature of yourself if you wanted. Oh to be perched awkwardly on a stranger’s couch figuring out how to play the drinking game while avoiding names...
Wow, I miss parties so much. I think I’m more introverted than you are, so 9 times out of 10 I’d probably be the casual acquaintance who remembers someone’s name and can tell, painfully, that they can’t remember mine. But it would be a funny story I could tell others, or at the very least something that happened to me that wasn’t bleak or mundane to the magnitude of most things in my life these days.
Right, like there’s always some minor insignificant “gossip” to gab about on your way home with the close friends you came with, and that-one-person who forgot your name could surely be in the mix!
do I miss debriefings more than actual parties? who can say