on advisorly countertransference

Music: Stars of the Lid: The Tired Sounds of Stars of the Lid (2001)

This week and next week are reserved for reading and commenting on graduate papers (I don't really "grade" them, just comment, as everyone seems to have done their best). I have to take breaks, though, to give my brain a rest, so I thought I would blog about an article in The Chronicle of Education from last week. I don't get the rag, but I suspect someone put it in my mailbox because of a feature story on sonic torture. That essay is fascinating and will get it's own entry; the more pressing nag, however, is about the back page op-ed, "The Professor as BFF," by Thomas J. Straka, a professor of forestry and natural resources at Clemson. The opening paragraph helps to convey the tone of the piece:

I tend to be pretty picky in taking on graduate advisees. A bad fit often involves frustration, for both the student and me, while a good choice can end up being a valuable contribution to the profession and a lifelong friendship. But starting out, I never consider a graduate student as a potential BFF (best friend forever).

Straka goes on to complain about the increasing dependency of graduate students, who apparently phone him repeatedly to ask stupid questions and to let him know they applied to the program. After many paragraphs of anecdotes about graduates who cannot, apparently, find information in the course guide themselves and so on, Straka laments he "may have to had a section on cellphone abuse to my introductory talk on graduate school expectations." The author concludes that his students are learning this behavior somewhere, and that "I'm just wondering where."

This is a good question, but I think one that definitely betrays a generational affiliation. Where do students learn this kind of "connection" with a professor is permissible? Part of the answer, I suspect, is that they learn it from interacting with younger instructors and professors. Straka forgets that in a research university, the basic courses are taught by students who are practically the same age as their own students—or perhaps only a few to five years older. Power distance is simply much shorter, and often these younger instructors use the similarity of age and experience to "reach" and teach their students. As instructors grow older, they have to develop different strategies for meeting students where they're at. Now in my mid-thirties, I've discovered my personal anecdotes don't resonate like they used to, and my references to television shows of the 80s and 90s just draw blank stares; to adapt, I'm breaking down and buying cable for the first time in my life. Nevertheless, I think Straka forgets that his graduate students have closer, affective bonds with their students---and their experiences with younger instructors are probably part of the answer to the "where?" question.

Another part of the answer is Straka's profound misunderstanding of the advisor/advisee relationship. It's transferential, to be sure. He mischaracterizes the desires of potential grads as looking for a "BFF," which, in his case, would be much more appropriate to say this desire is more akin to looking for a parent (it's an age thing, man). Given the somewhat dismissive tone of Straka, we've got the powerful countertransference of hostility here: basically, the student calling him "about 20 times" over the course of two weeks is looking for recognition, he's looking for love, not the answers to his dumb questions. Straka's response is to refuse giving the student the recognition he wants.

There is a way to recognize students, to answer their need for love, without cruelty. In my own experience, I don't think I'm quite old enough to step into the parental role; I'm still more like a "buddy" to my advisees. Straka just doesn't give graduate students credit: they're a lot smarter than this. Our grads here seem pretty adept at knowing what is and is not appropriate; I don't get cell phone calls incessantly, nor needy emails. This leads me to suspect Straka's program is structured differently, or that his personality invites the transference more than most.

My undergraduates, however, are starting to click into the in loco parentis mode, and I'm ok with that. I would never, of course, make my cell phone available to undergraduates. I get enough emails as it is! But my reaction is not the reaction of Straka. He seems to dehumanize students a bit---turn them into need machines.

Finally, Matt Morris just told me a new book is out titled The Narcissism Epidemic that helps to explain the emergence of entitlement culture in the United States. Now here, I think, is unnamed target of Straka's essay---he just gets it wrong. We've discussed the "petulant demand" before and how students seem, increasingly, entitled to a good grade just for showing up in class, or for simply being a good person. This new attitude is also transferential, but on the hate side of the affective coin: you become the bad parent who has been neglectful and failed to see the tremendous value of the student, her inner treasure—it's the ideal ego run amuck. Whereas the student asking for recognition is operating on the ego-ideal (that is, the ideal of myself from outside, and ideal that recognizes some part of me lacks and some part of me is from without—is Other), the petulant student is the narcissist who demands. Straka needs to see the difference between the two and not conflate them. This results an a kind of adversarial attitude that can only end in bad teaching.

Students by and large are good people who want to be good. At least in my experience at UT this is the case. A needy or petulant student does stir in me those feelings of hostility that Straka airs in print. I suspect the same is true for many of you teachers out there. We're only human. I think, however, the key to good teaching and advising is to teach and mentor those who seek recognition (and knowledge), including the needy student. The petulant student, because they do not care about your role as a teacher, isn't likely to learn much. You just have to try and not let them get to you, 'cause the rest of the students are there for the right reasons.