I, Professor.

At UK Border Control leaving Paris’s Gare du Nord.

Officer, perusing my passport with official scepticism: Ms. Zuroski. Professor. You are very young to be a professor.

Me, providing stock answer to this perennial observation: I’m probably older than you think.

Officer: No, because I am looking right here at your date of birth, and that is why I say you are very young. To be a professor.

Me: Ah. Yes, of course. Well, then, I don’t know what to tell you.


Epilogue: I realize now that over here I should identify myself as a “lecturer.” Nevertheless, I have decided, from now on, I will answer this observation simply by saying, “Yes, I’m very clever.”

2 thoughts on “I, Professor.

  1. I’ve been told I don’t look like a professor ever since I taught my first university course in 1978, just like I’ve been told even recently that small women can’t evoke respect from a ‘big class’. I can only conclude that no one ‘looks like a professor’ unless they have a white beard, although men without beards are always in the running, and that Big People don’t know anything about classrooms I’m standing in.

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