Sam Bell, in “Professors Should Give a Damn,” makes what should be an obvious, non-controversial point: “Complaining about students [on social media] minimizes the work that we, as college professors, do.” Unfortunately, advocating for compassion toward students is surprisingly controversial.

A private vent can be cathartic and allow us to maintain perspective and equanimity. Public venting perpetuates an emotional violence that harms the one who rants. Posting student work for ridicule demonstrates a serious lack of the kindness that students should expect from professionals. In addition to students, I am not surprised that Bell’s critics tended to show a lack of compassion to both Bell and others who commented on her article.

Instead of quoting responses to Bell that are not compassionate, I prefer to cite a response I received from a comment I made to Leslie Niiro’s “Breaking Down Barriers Between the Humanities and the Sciences;” a response that can serve as a model for compassionate discourse. After reading my remarks, jjfoster wrote that the “last sentence in his [Berg’s] next but last paragraph might be interpreted to mean that you needn’t pay attention to critics considered ‘uncivil’, although he didn’t necessarily mean that.” Even if I had meant to counsel Niiro to ignore her uncivil critics, nothing could be gained by vehemently attacking my position. Non-violence, like violence, is mimetic. It is the compassionate responses such as the one made by jjfoster—not the harsh, bitter ones that we too often see posted even in The Chronicle of Higher Education—that contribute to positive dialogue.

Bell’s critics used her argument against complaining on social media as a vehicle to argue against any compassion toward students; often on the grounds that students should be treated as mature adults or that we need to prepare them for the real world where—according to Bell’s critics—compassion is not a factor in professional interactions.

Even if we were to accept that all of our students have the skills to act as mature adults, we should know from our own experience that mature adults make mistakes. After distributing the syllabus during my first class this semester, I realized that I had printed the wrong syllabus. As a mature adult, I took responsibility for my mistake, apologized for the inconvenience, and told the students I would e-mail them the proper syllabus later in the day and bring print copies to the next class.

Later this semester, more than one of those students will leave their book bag at home, will print out the wrong materials for class, or will do an assignment incorrectly. Am I to castigate them for not acting like mature adults even if they take responsibility for their error and take steps to correct it? And if they don’t already have those skills, isn’t part of my responsibility as a faculty member to mentor them?

I have found that some of the loudest voices against compassion toward students expect to be treated with compassion when life interferes with their educational responsibilities. Several years ago, I heard a colleague complaining about irresponsible students who schedule doctors’ appointments during class times—as if doctors give patients much leeway in scheduling appointments. Ironically, this colleague had recently missed several days of class because she had been ill. The only real difference I could see between her and the students about whom she was complaining was that, as a tenured professor, she had sick days. Her “irresponsible students” do not have the luxury of sick days.

Some of Bell’s critics seem to equate compassion with lowered standards. Having compassion does not mean that I lower standards for students who had life interfere with their academics or who have acted irresponsibly. Compassion does not dictate that I schedule another appointment for the student who skipped the appointment that I had been willing to make after the semester had already ended. Acting with compassion does not mean that I need to permit another student who did a superficial job at revising a paper—again after the semester ended—to have another chance at revision. Nor does compassion keep me from reporting academic dishonesty or other inappropriate behavior to the Vice-President of Students.

While discussing the pedagogical approaches we take toward showing compassion to students, we need to have compassion for faculty members who essentially argue that “professors should not give a damn.” From what they wrote in their comments to Bell and from similar comments I have seen posted elsewhere, I suspect that the quality of their lives would improve if they could learn to show compassion.

–Steven L. Berg, PhD

Photo Caption: Chinese character for compassion.