Yesterday, I was again reminded about how easy it is for faculty members to frustrate students because they have such low expectations for us.

I am moving to a private office, in part, so we can free up the library study room in which I have been meeting with students; a study room in which I provide tea, coffee, and sweets during the time we spent together there. While the move is not ideal, it is not undesirable. But it will necessitate a few changes.

While explaining to some students that I will have to begin using tea bags instead of the loose tea I serve in the library, one of them commented, “That’s OK. None of our other professors give us any kind of tea.”

Her comment reminded me of when I first became aware that my approach to students was different from many of my colleagues. I was still a graduate student at Michigan State University and was being nominated for the Excellence in Teaching Citation. My ideas about why I might be a viable candidate for this award included my approach to course preparation and other activities traditionally associated with teachers. However, students who wrote recommendations on my behalf thought I should be given the award simply because I treated them with courtesy.

It bothered me at the time–and continues to bother me 25 years later–that I could be considered an outstanding teacher simply by treating students with common courtesy; by treating them no better than I would treat some stranger whom I encounter during my daily affairs; a stranger with whom I will have no future contact. This, to me, is very sad.

I am fortunate to be in a position where I can afford to give my students tea and candy and other treats, but I am keenly aware that one cannot purchase respect. One earns respect by being respectful. And being respectful to students does not cost a dime. Without spending any money, as professors, we can figuratively share tea with students through our actions and attitudes.

For example, in anticipation of the snowstorm heading toward Michigan earlier this week, I revised my course plans to delay a team project scheduled for the worse day of the storm and to modify an assignment so that students could complete it without coming to campus. If our campus did not close, I knew that many students would be unable to attend class; either because roads would be impassible or because they would have to take care of their children or younger brothers/sisters who would have a snow day or becasue of several other legitimate reasons. Students appreciate such understanding and compassion.

While discussing how we would handle class, one student reported some comments that another professor made about the exam scheduled for the day of the big storm. The professor had made it clear–using some rather snarky comments–that any student who couldn’t get to campus would fail the exam, that there would be no considerations, no make-ups, no compassion. What would have been the cost of delaying the exam? Or, at the least, not being condescending while explaining the need to be on campus in spite of the advice that people in our area should avoid traveling during the snowstorm?

Students too often expect us to be the types of individuals who would fail them on an exam if they can’t make it to campus during a blizzard. Therefore, it requires minimal effort to frustrate their preconceived notions about our lack of humanness by serving them a cup of tea or through a few simple acts of kindness. Frustrating them in this way is worth the effort.

–Steven L. Berg, PhD