title use in academic settings

[david valentine]

Here at Sarah Lawrence, titles are virtually nonexistant, something
which flows from the school's progressive (if sometimes unrealized)
ideology of equality and cooperative learning.  There are no official
hierarchies (beyond the actual realities of tenure), so that the
operative distinctions between teachers (not professors, note) are
whether one is a guest, tenure-track, or tenured faculty member.  You
simply can't be a "professor" at SLC, even when you have tenure.  In
fact, we aren't even officially "Dr." either, since many of the faculty,
who teach in the arts, writing, and theatre programs, do not have a
Ph.D. as the terminal degree in their fields.  As a result, to be fair
to all, everyone is listed in college literature as "Mr." or "Ms" (never
"Mrs." or "Miss").

In practice, of course, things vary.  Many students -- especially first
years and transfer students -- use "professor" either by itself or with
last name, but this practice quickly comes to an end once the semester
is underway and hear their fellow students using the more normal form of
address, which is first name.  Only one of my students has ever called
me "Mr. Valentine" for longer than a month.   This practice is also
encouraged by the intensive one-on-one teaching system at SLC where
teachers meet with each student they teach once every two weeks to
supervise individual research projects; and the donning system, where
each student is attached to a faculty don for their four years at the
college.  With this level of contact, and the small class size (15 max),
the familiarity of first name address seems to be inevitable.

It's interesting to see the new students negotiate this.  I tend to sign
my emails to my students (and everyone else) "dv" and I frequently get
responses from new students which start "Dear dv."  By far the worst of
it, though, is when the FN familiarity results in even further
familiarity, as when "David" becomes "Dave."  I had one student who
called me Dave the whole of last semester, and despite the way it
grated, I couldn't bring myself to tell him that it annoyed me.

This is all in stark contrast to teaching at NYU both pre- and
post-Ph.D.  I was "professor" to every single (undergraduate) student
even when I informed them that  (a) I didn't have a Ph.D. yet, or (b)
once I did, that they could call me by my first name.

The most difficult part about the somewhat kooky (if lovely) system at
SLC is representing oneself to the outside world.  Until relatively
recently, SLC didn't award grades, meaning students had to submit reams
of narrative evaluations for gradute school applications.  And as a
faculty member, in filling out "title" boxes in recommendation forms
etc., one has to be inventive, either using "faculty member" or
translating it into an equivalent (if not actually conferred) title such
as, in my case,  "visiting asst. professor."

dv

Richard J Senghas wrote:

> 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
>
>

--
David Valentine
Sarah Lawrence College
914.395.2363
dvalenti at slc.edu
http://www.geocities.com/davidvalentine2002
- -
"What are the other books?" asked Dorothea
"'Pocket Book of Birds,'" said Dick, "and 'Common Objects of the Countryside'..."
"Oh," said Dorothea.  "Nothing to read at all?"