If we haven't met yet, please know that I'm excited to get to know you. Also, if you think you hate writing (and my gosh, do complete strangers love to tell me that), may I just ask that you give it, and me, a chance to show you it can actually be pretty darn fun and rewarding.
Here are some tips on best practices for communicating with your professors and instructors, whether in person or via email.
Call them "Professor [Lastname]" or "Dr. [Lastname]" (the latter if they have a Ph.D, Ed.D. or other doctorate degree).
Do not call them "Mr." or "Mrs." or "Miss" or "Ms." unless they specifically tell you to do so. Your adjunct in the Chemistry department, for example, may be Ms. Smith outside of class, but to you, she is Professor Smith.
I am Dr. Wells to you. I will also accept Professor Wells. I will not answer to "Miss" or "Mrs. Wells" or anything other than Dr. / Prof. Wells. When you've earned a doctorate, you'll understand. I'm not being a snob; I'm keeping a professional distance between myself and my students.
Never call them by their first name (unless, again, they specifically tell you to do so). It is disrespectful.
Do not address them as "Hey." They are not your buddies or your family. I cannot tell you how many emails I get that just say "Hey," or start with the first line of the message (often in all lowercase letters!). It's rude. I have considered ignoring these emails, but I'm not mean enough.
When sending them an email, use proper letter format:
Begin with a salutation, such as, "Dear Dr. Smith:" Yes, use a colon after the person's last name, not a comma. I teach business writing; this is the formal rule.
Tell them what class and which section of it you are in. If they teach huge classes, they have no idea who you are just from your name. And even if they don't teach huge classes, they don't automatically know from your name which of their three sections of, say, Biology 104 you are in.
Keep your message to a single topic. If you have more to discuss, it's better to send a separate email.
Make sure the professor knows what they are supposed to do with the information you are emailing them about.
If you have a question, make sure it is formatted as a question. You'd be surprised how often students think they're asking a question—but are not.
If you're letting them know you are going to absent, include relevant details. Also, review their attendance policy in the syllabus. Your email may be irrelevant depending on the professor's attendance policy. I've heard a colleague say, "Why do they email me to tell me they're going to be absent? It doesn't change anything!"
Emailing a professor with "I'm confused about the paper assignment" is not going to get you very far. (Also, it's not a question! It's a statement.) What exactly is confusing you? Did you read the instructions? At what step did you get lost? We're not going to reply to a message like this except to say either, "Exactly what part is confusing you?" or "Make an appointment and come see me," because we just don't know what to say otherwise, or we don't feel like re-explaining the entire assignment but in writing.
If you missed class, emailing your professor and saying, "Did I miss anything?" is the dictionary definition of a stupid question. YES, you missed anything. Asking, "What did I miss?" is not going to win you any points, either. "Can I make up what I missed?" Check the syllabus before you ask this; there's almost certainly a policy in the syllbus bout make-up assignments.
End the message with a polite closing, such as, "Sincerely," and then on the next line your name.
Use my professional title: Doctor or Professor. Plus my last name.
Not my first name. Not "Professor Holly."
Not "Hey."
Be specific when you email me.
Be polite. We're human beings, too.
My first semester of teaching began in Fall 2001 at Youngstown State University in Youngstown, Ohio. As a newly minted Master of Arts with a Certificate in Professional Writing and Editing, I wasn't sure I was cut out to be a writing instructor, but after a semester on the job, I realized it was easily the most rewarding job I had ever had. I went through September 11th with my students, which was quite an emotional rollercoaster. Helping students navigate higher education and learn to enjoy writing seemed to come naturally; I especially appreciated the positive feedback students gave me. It has kept me going during moments when I wondered if I'd made the right choice.
I started college as a biology major in Fall 1984 at Youngstown State, with the goal of becoming a medical technologist. Prior to making that decision, I had wanted to be, in no particular order, a marine biologist, geneticist, novelist, jazz musician (alto/soprano sax), or possibly a photographer. 🤷🏻♀️
After my first quarter (we were on 11-week quarters in the olden days), I received my grades: A's in social science and Honors English Composition; B's in Chemistry and Biology. I thought I must not be cut out for a career in sciences; having been one of my class valedictorians with straight A's (in the days before AP classes and weighted GPAs), I was not accustomed to anything less than an A, so I figured I must not be very bright after all. I changed my major to English the very next quarter.
In January 2000, after spending a few years at home with my now-32-year-old firstborn, I was feeling like the tradwife life was not for me, so I checked into what was going on at YSU. Seeing that a graduate certificate in Professional Writing and Editing was newly available, I applied and was accepted. Before I knew it, one of my old professors from the '80s (Rick Shale, may he RIP) had talked me into applying for the MA program and taking on an editorial assistantship (which paid for my tuition—yay!).
I graduated with my MA in August 2001, divorced my then-husband, and spent a year teaching at YSU before obtaining a full-time position as a technical and marketing communications writer at Audio-Technica U.S. in Stow, Ohio. I worked there for a year before deciding I wanted to earn a Ph.D., so I applied to the Literacy, Rhetoric, and Social Practice program at Kent State University (because it was close to home—isn't that how everyone picks a Ph.D. program? [Narrator: No. It is not.]). I was accepted and began my studies in Fall 2003 but continued to consult for Audio-Technica for about four years.
In December 2012, I finally graduated with my Ph.D. in English from Kent State. Although my mother had passed away in 2001, my dad lived to see it (he passed away in 2013). Yes, it was a long time coming, but in that time I remarried, had a kid, had 2/3 of my dissertation committee up and move to Colorado seemingly in the dark of night without a word, and overcame various other obstacles.
As if professors have time for hobbies and interests! (cough)
Okay, assuming there are occasional breaks in this academic life, here's what I do with them:
I love genealogy. A ridiculous amount of money goes into supporting my Ancestry.com habit.
This is mostly because I have two families: my adopted one and my biological one. I've done trees for both. I've also done trees for friends, students, and complete strangers (not in a creepy way, though).
I love quilting. Last fall, after my summer in Newfoundland and Labrador visiting family (and going to a genealogy conference), I decided to learn to quilt because it's an important part of Newfoundland culture.
When I retire, my plan is to run a side hustle selling quilts and tote bags. I'm working on the website now so it's all ready to go once I actually have time to sew again.
Don't know if this counts as a hobby or interest (it's more of an obligation), but I do work out every single day. The Apple Watch makes me. (Well, the streak on my rings makes me. I have, like, 1160 days and counting as of August 24!)
Indoor workouts are usually running or walking on the treadmill, cycling on my spin bike, strength training, yoga, and core work.
Outdoor workouts include hiking, cycling (which is the only workout I actually enjoy), occasionally running, kayaking, and whatever else happens to be available where I'm travelling.
I used to have a membership at the Rec Center at ESU, but it just got too weird after a while. I don't want to see you there, and you don't want to see me. It's best I work out at home.
My husband loves camping, and I, well—I like it. We take our travel trailer all over, but particularly to Maine, where we have a small property with a "cottage" (it's a shed, people...it's basically a Maine Cabin Masters "before"), and Newfoundland and Labrador.
I'm kind of obsessed with the ocean. Perhaps you've noticed the sea theme going on here. It comes from connecting with my birth mother and her family, all of whom are from Newfoundland, which has a long and storied tradition in the cod fishery.
What's weird is I was always kind of obsessed with the sea, decades before I knew my biological family at all, let alone that they were deeply connected to it. I even wanted to be a marine biologist, which is odd for someone who grew up in landlocked Ohio. Maybe the sea really is in my blood.
In recent years, I've gotten bored with the disciplines I used to work in and have drifted to the periphery of my field—well, to be honest, I was always on the fringes. I began in visual rhetoric, which is now an accepted subdiscipline of rhetoric (but wasn't always). While I still write and teach visual rhetoric, most of my scholarship takes the form of autoethnography, adoption studies, and material studies.
I presented an autoethnographic paper and video earlier this year at the International Association of Autoethnography and Narrative Inquiry Conference. In it, I trace the personal and cultural trauma that led to my existence and how it has impacted my identity as an adopted person.
I'm currently working on a paper on adoptee identity through quilting for the MAPACA Conference in November. It involves constructing a quilt with two family trees—one biological, the other adoptive—that conjoin in a process known as inosculation. I argue that adoptee identity can be viewed as a random conjoining of two unrelated trees, resulting in a combined but also unique person who now has their own tree.
I'm also working on a paper for the PASSHE Women's Consortium this fall; the topic is broadly visual rhetoric and body positivity. My focus is on the early death of the body positivity (think Lizzo, maybe ten years ago) movement and its relationship to the prevalence of GLP-1 drugs. I argue that this new form of fat/thin shaming is nothing new in the music industry, and I take readers back to the 1980s video era, when Ann Wilson of Heart and Martha Wash of Weather Girls had their bodies hidden, distorted, or even erased from music videos due to fat shaming.
You can see some of my published work on my Academia.edu page.
You must be really, really bored to read all this. Okay, see you in class!