So I went drinking with my professor... whilst I'm still a student.
First of all, god I hate pubs. The noise and the fact that I have to speak really louuuudly just drains my energy so fast. Bleh.
But the second, and most important thing is, that I have never felt so acutely aware of the fact that that he was my professor. I have been thinking of him as "Andrew" for so long, I've almost forgotten, and the distinction had almost become academic.
We started talking about MBTI in the lecture, and it meant I had a chance to ask him what his type was after the lecture. Turns out he is INFP. Darn. INFPs are super perceptive to manipulation and inauthenticity. I had him pegged as an INFJ -- well, I'd had hoped that he was, because in the dubious world of pop psychology, INFJs are the ideal type for ENTPs.
But it turns out one of my friends is INFJ, and identifies strongly with it. She came along with us, a group of about 7 friends.
So the conversation led us to the pub to continue said conversation. I had the INFJ stare at me the entire duration I was cozying up to Andrew-- wait, my lecturer, wait-- Andrew...? (I mean, our legs are touching and we're talking about god knows what and isn't it easier just to forget that inconvenient detail--) but then our conversation somehow got to essays, and suddenly he's telling me how there's this unconscious urge to mark someone who comes to tutorials, someone who's name he knows, someone who comes and asks questions, higher and better than someone he doesn't, and I'm reminded of the fact that I've just submitted an essay and he's the one marking it.
This person whose face is like 15 centimeters away from my own, this person who smells slightly sweet, who is unerringly considerate and compassionate towards everyone, he's going to be marking my essay and deciding on the grade.
The power difference is both disturbing and ridiculously hot.
Still, the fact that we were student and teacher became even more apparent as the night went on. We were joined by a couple of his mates at the pub, and at one point in time, the conversation got to extensions for the essays. Andrew scrolled through his email, and said something to the effect of, "Awww, all I have are requests for extensions. Jesus, they were due last week." And I was reminded of another conversation with a girl in his ethics class, who was complaining to me about how he only gave her 3 days extension instead of the normal week long. We were commiserating about how much of a hard ass Andy was, and here he was commiserating about how lazy his students were.
God that was surreal.
Because he gave me a two day extension last semester, and I felt suuuch an urge to mention that in conversation. I have a vague feeling I made him uncomfortable with that, because he groaned, and said, "Nooo, god I was such a jerk last semester. I've been much more lenient with extensions this semester though."
And I could only think, "ummm no weren't. but that's ok. because we actually deserve it."
SUCH A STRANGE EXPERIENCE. I think the INFJ was psychoanalysing me. Must ask.
But the second, and most important thing is, that I have never felt so acutely aware of the fact that that he was my professor. I have been thinking of him as "Andrew" for so long, I've almost forgotten, and the distinction had almost become academic.
We started talking about MBTI in the lecture, and it meant I had a chance to ask him what his type was after the lecture. Turns out he is INFP. Darn. INFPs are super perceptive to manipulation and inauthenticity. I had him pegged as an INFJ -- well, I'd had hoped that he was, because in the dubious world of pop psychology, INFJs are the ideal type for ENTPs.
But it turns out one of my friends is INFJ, and identifies strongly with it. She came along with us, a group of about 7 friends.
So the conversation led us to the pub to continue said conversation. I had the INFJ stare at me the entire duration I was cozying up to Andrew-- wait, my lecturer, wait-- Andrew...? (I mean, our legs are touching and we're talking about god knows what and isn't it easier just to forget that inconvenient detail--) but then our conversation somehow got to essays, and suddenly he's telling me how there's this unconscious urge to mark someone who comes to tutorials, someone who's name he knows, someone who comes and asks questions, higher and better than someone he doesn't, and I'm reminded of the fact that I've just submitted an essay and he's the one marking it.
This person whose face is like 15 centimeters away from my own, this person who smells slightly sweet, who is unerringly considerate and compassionate towards everyone, he's going to be marking my essay and deciding on the grade.
The power difference is both disturbing and ridiculously hot.
Still, the fact that we were student and teacher became even more apparent as the night went on. We were joined by a couple of his mates at the pub, and at one point in time, the conversation got to extensions for the essays. Andrew scrolled through his email, and said something to the effect of, "Awww, all I have are requests for extensions. Jesus, they were due last week." And I was reminded of another conversation with a girl in his ethics class, who was complaining to me about how he only gave her 3 days extension instead of the normal week long. We were commiserating about how much of a hard ass Andy was, and here he was commiserating about how lazy his students were.
God that was surreal.
Because he gave me a two day extension last semester, and I felt suuuch an urge to mention that in conversation. I have a vague feeling I made him uncomfortable with that, because he groaned, and said, "Nooo, god I was such a jerk last semester. I've been much more lenient with extensions this semester though."
And I could only think, "ummm no weren't. but that's ok. because we actually deserve it."
SUCH A STRANGE EXPERIENCE. I think the INFJ was psychoanalysing me. Must ask.