title use in academic settings

[Richard J Senghas]

I'll chime in, finally stealing a moment from duties to sit still.
[For participants in this conversation, I have a request at the end
of this message.]

I did my graduate school days in an anthropology department dominated
by British-trained folk.  (My theoretical perspectives still have a
decidedly social anthropology sIant to this day.)  If I recall
correctly, the majority of the faculty had graduate degrees from
Oxford, Cambridge, and the London School of Economics, with Chicago
for some of the US-trained faculty;  some of the British-trained folk
had come through Chicago as well.

As a graduate student who grew up in New England and then had spent a
decade in the Silicon Valley R&D environment before returning to
academe, I found the name game interestingly different from my prior
professional and social experiences.  It also was interesting to
watch us all (students, faculty, and staff) try to figure out the
appropriate terms of address.  Some of the students did not seem to
be aware of their own adjustments to their patterns of address, some
had more trouble and found it distressing when they weren't sure.
Some of the faculty were more formal in their professional (or
professorial) interactions, others intentionally not so.  I also
noticed that some faculty fostered more of a distinction between
undergraduates and graduates, while others downplayed such a
distinction without ignoring it.

We had a married couple in this small department, and so we used Mr.
& Mrs. to distinguish them, though they were both full professors.
Outside of their presence, we'd often refer to them by their first
names for clarity, and even as a way to indicate a certain fondness
at times.  (These were the two most senior members of the department,
in both age & rank.)

Because my mother was a physician, I grew up keenly aware that she
negotiated this tricky issue of titles, respect, and due recognition
daily, and I couldn't help bringing that experience to my graduate
school environment.   My first graduate advisor was the Mrs. just
mentioned above.  For me, I felt at first that I was not adequately
recognizing her professional status & achievements when I referred to
her as Mrs.  But I also recalled that there were times that my mother
preferred NOT to be addressed as Doctor Maiden-Name (she used her
maiden-name professionally), but instead Mrs. Senghas, because social
protocol and context made her marital/familial status more relevant
than her professional status (despite the "master role" of being a
physician that always seems to trump for males, cf. Goffman).

So I asked my advisor which she preferred.  A true anthropological
mentor, she replied, "why don't you observe local practice and follow
suit?"  So I observed, and noticed inconsistent practice.  Now that I
dwell on this, I'll bet she knew exactly what I would find, and I
smile.  I found myself adopting the following pattern:  when
referring to her with any kind of professional context outside the
department, I'd refer to her as Prof. + FN + LN;  with faculty within
the department, I alternated between Mrs.+LN and FN-only, depending
upon the faculty-members present, defaulting to the more formal form
where faculty had differing tendencies.  With fellow graduate
students (beyond new-first-years), I'd alternate between Mrs.+LN,
FN-only, and Prof.+FN+LN, depending upon the students most
comfortable mode (we had international students, some more
comfortable with more formally-hierarchical systems of address and
reference).  With undergrads, I'd always refer to her as Prof.+LN,
using FN where there might be ambiguity otherwise.

The weekend that my Ph.D. was formally conferred, I introduced my
father to this Mrs. Professor, using the full Prof.+FN+LN without any
ensuing comments on the introduction.  However, only moments later
when catching her attention during social interactions that
inevitably surround graduations, I addressed her as Prof.+LN,
whereupon she smiled enigmatically saying, "You may call me FN, now."
(Somehow I think Van Gennep and V. Turner would have recognized this
moment.)

I now notice my own students doing familiar dances around name and
title protocols [at least, for those students who are aware of formal
titles, which many seem not to be], but this time those dances
involve addressing me.  Perhaps I should give them my first advisor's
suggestion.

I think our conversation on this list will probably pop up in one of
my linguistic anthro courses.  Any contributors mind being cited?

-Richard