I recently lost my uncle to Pulmonary Fibrosis. While it was not a shock or unexpected it did not help the pain of knowing he was gone. When I got the news I had a bag already packed at the door ready to leave school but my family told me to wait. While they wanted me to be with them they said my late uncle would hate me missing class, so I stayed until I had to leave for the funeral.

It was hard to make myself get up and go to class, not knowing what would make me cry or breakdown, but I continued to go to class for several days. Half of my classes were online but I still told those teachers what happened who gave their condolences and extended deadlines if I needed them. I told one of my teachers after class what happened and he gave his condolences, told me not to worry about missing class and said to take time to be with my family in our time of grief which I will forever be grateful for. 

The day before the funeral I went to class with that one professor we all have, the one who thinks their doctorate makes them untouchable and to an extent, holy. I was nervous when I got to class but I knew I had to tell him, but of course he preached that Thursday's class was going to be the most important class of the semester and we could not miss it. After his lecture I bucked up the courage to tell him what had happened, I expressed my concern about missing the class and asked if their was a time I could meet with him to talk about what I would miss. He barely looked at me with unamused eyes and told me he would not reteach the lecture. 

I stared at him for a moment in shock at his rudeness but I told him that is not what I wanted, I just did not want to fall behind. After he blabbered on for a moment about how important his time was and how he did not want to waste it I told him the whole story. About how my uncle was such a big part of my life and how I needed to be with family. That this would be my first time missing the class all semester and that I did not want to get behind when I was already feeling lost. He finally looked at me, took a deep breathe and said he would try to do something but he was not going to waste his time because, “if I wanted to be in class I would be”. 

Why don’t professors get it?

I might be a college student but I have feelings, emotions and not to mention the right to mourn. 

I might be a college student but I have a life outside of the four walls of the classroom. School is my priority but I have a job, hobbies and a family that needs me just as much as I need them. I am sorry my uncle, one of the most influential men in my life, did not pass on a different day that conveniences you but that is not how the world works. 

So many professors have lost their empathy, they believe their time is so important nothing should get in the way, and that their students always have an ulterior motive. Even when students come to them in good faith they let this preconceived notion of the negligence of college students get the best of them. It may be they learned the hard way not to trust their students, or maybe they have heard the horror stories from their colleagues but that makes no difference.

College students deserve empathy too.