I've gotten used to being mistaken for a student. Whether it's a fellow faculty member objecting to my classroom status ("but you can't be faculty-- you're just a BABY") or the secretary of the international studies department imploring me to study abroad (my delivering in-person of a rec letter was met with a "dear, have you considered our Germany program?"), I've become accustomed to being under-aged.
Now that it is spring break, campus is more absent of undergrads than during Thirsty Thursday shooter specials at the local bar. The only person I saw under the age of 20 on campus today was my department head's six year old daughter.
So the looks I garnered from various humanities professors (when I hiked through "their" side of campus on my way home) were understandable. From what I determined from my facial reading skills (honed during my hours of lecturing freshmen):
- "is it Sunday already?"
- "who let the freshmen back on campus?"
and my favorite:
- "what the EFF are you doing here?"
