Kind Words and A Loaded Gun

One of my favorite parts of being a college professor is writing letters of recommendation for my favorite students. I love this task for many reasons, some good, some bad. My evil side enjoys the selectivity of the whole process. I can say NO...and I sometimes do.

When it comes to teaching, I sometimes feel like an emotional hostage to the job. If someone stops by my cube, I can never hide, or tell them to go away, or express any emotion I'm actually having. It's all about them, all the time. And that's the way it should be, in spite of the occasional asshole who takes advantage of the fact I can't tell him off. But in a letter of recommendation, I can say no, I can say yes, I can talk about overall strengths and weaknesses, which isn't appropriate in day to day conversations.

But the real reason I love writing letters of recommendation is that I think it's the only place in my life I get to use one of my most undervalued skills. I see people. I appreciate them with a depth that others don't quite understand. It's a tiny skill. But I love having a place in which it's valuable, even if it's a skill that none of my colleagues see or understand or value.

AND, of course, it's an act that makes a huge difference in someone's life, even if he or she doesn't understand it at the time. My own life has been affected by letters of recommendation in magnificent and devastating ways. As an undergrad, the stress over asking for letters of rec nearly made me give up going to grad school. Later, letters of recommendation saved my life, and then sunk it. Looking from the whole mess from the other side gives me a sense of being a grown-up (finally).