Things My Students Taught Me: Guilty Until Proven Innocent?

The kid sounded very upset—and how could he not be?? His brother had been in a catastrophic car accident the previous night and his injuries were very serious.? The family had gathered at the hospital, and they weren’t sure he was going to make it.? He wanted to join them that very day—but with my exam coming up, and not knowing how long he’d be gone…? “Forget the exam,” I told the kid.? “Go be with your family; we’ll deal with the exam when you’re back in town.”? He was grateful, and off he went.?

My title was “Graduate Assistant,” but I had complete control over the classes I taught, and was indistinguishable in authority from any professor.? I ran a tight ship, but this one was a no-brainer to me: Staying away from your brother as he fights for his life because you have an exam coming up made no sense to me then, and it makes no sense to me now.?

The next day, as many Ph.D. students did, I headed to my office on Saturday night to get some work done.? As I walked towards the building entrance, I looked across the street—and whom did I see walking under the streetlight?? It was the distraught student who was supposed to be by his dying brother’s bedside hundreds of miles away, dressed for a night on the town and strutting towards the bars.? I happened to see his face just for a moment before disappeared into the darkness; for him, that’s called being at the wrong place at the wrong time.? I went upstairs, dug up his phone number, and left a message on his answering machine (ah, yes; the telegraph office was closed) telling him that I hope he had a fun time, but he should drop the class because I fully intended to flunk him.? He wasn’t dumb enough to test me, so he was off my class list first thing Monday morning.? I was half-mad at myself for having fallen for his command performance, and fully mad at him for having used such an emotionally-charged, disarming excuse just to get out of an exam (and going out instead of studying for it to boot!)?

This is precisely the kind of thing that might make you think twice about granting an extension or a make-up exam the next time someone claims a family emergency.? But then again…? Becoming less flexible as a result of that experience would’ve meant that the lying liar’s lies had succeeded in changing how I interact with my students.? And I refused to let that happen.? I wasn’t going to treat everyone else as “not guilty—yet!” or “guilty until proven innocent” just because one kid had tried to fool me.? I certainly wouldn’t have liked it if anyone treated me as a bad apple right off the bat, just because they’d had bad experiences with those who came before me.?

What felt like a slap in the face shouldn’t have caught me by surprise: Not everyone acts in good conscience, and sometimes people lie egregiously and disproportionately to the circumstances.? But putting up barriers of mistrust is self-defeating, and it’s unfair: Doing so might keep another kid from pulling a fast one on me, but it might also show no flexibility—and indeed no compassion—to someone who desperately needs it.? Is the trade-off worth it?? Not to me.? Everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt, and the right thing to do is to grant them that much.? I don’t swallow up any old excuse students dish out, but chances are I’ve been fooled before, and never knew it: I can live with that.? At least I keep in mind that life happens, and one has to be understanding and supportive rather than judgmental and inflexible.

?Years later, one of my graduate students was beside herself because her professor would not give her a make-up if she missed the exam to attend her father-in-law’s funeral.? “Sorry honey,” he must have expected her to say to her husband; “I know your dad died, but I have an exam to take, so is it ok if I just send flowers?”? When I heard about it, I was glad my past experiences hadn’t made me indifferent to people’s plight.?

Homines dum docent discunt.?