Dear Professors,

Before anything else, let me say this with respect: we appreciate you. Truly. We know you deal with budget cuts, putting your all into lesson plans, endless emails, weird smells drifting into your classroom because you’re next to the bathroom, doing your job effortlessly, and that one student who always argues for sport.

But since we’re all adults here, let me go ahead and say what every student probably once thought (you included, Professor!) once the clock hits dismissal time: sometimes y’all stress us out more than the actual coursework!

This is not a letter of disrespect. This is a letter of honesty. The kind of honesty that comes from sitting in the back of class wondering why the syllabus is 10 pages long. The kind of honesty that grows each time we open Blackboard and suddenly see five new assignments we swear wasn’t there yesterday.

Let me be clear. We’re not asking for easy A’s. We’re not asking for less rigor. We just want you to remember that most of us are balancing school, work, mental health, financial stress, family responsibilities, and the daily emotional rollercoaster of being a young adult in a chaotic world. Sometimes it feels like professors forget they were once students too. Unless some of you really did slide into your profession straight from the womb, in which case we salute your dedication! We know teaching isn’t easy. We’ve watched you juggle technology that refuses to cooperate. We’ve watched you fight with projectors. We’ve watched you grow visibly tired of hearing, “Is this on the test?”

We get it. Truly.

But sometimes, you have to meet us halfway. If you’re going to assign a 10-page paper, please don’t announce it like you’re giving us an all paid for trip to DisneyLand. If you’re going to grade with the intensity of a crime scene investigator, at least warn us so we can mentally prepare. And if you’re going to respond to our emails two weeks later, please don’t scold us for waiting two hours to answer yours. We’re not perfect either. Some of us write essays at 3 a.m. that shows just that. Some of us show up to class looking like we just sprinted from a crisis or were in a crisis. Some of us pretend we’re paying attention but really we’ve been watching our favorite show on our laptop.

Some of us use ChatGPT and nothing else. No textbooks, no lesson plan, just ChatGPT. And yes, a few of us absolutely do forget what class we’re in until attendance is called. But we’re trying. Harder than you know.

The truth is, most students actually want to connect with their professors. We want to feel like you see us as humans, not ID numbers. The moments that stay with us aren’t the grades, the quizzes, or the lectures we pretended to listen to. It’s the small things. The professor who checks in with us after noticing we’re struggling. The professor who gives grace when life hits hard. The professor who admits they don’t have all the answers and laughs with us when the semester gets chaotic. Those are the professors who change students’ lives without even realizing it. So here’s what we’re asking for: humanity.

Patience. A little humor. A little compassion. A little understanding that burnout is real and effort looks different for everyone. In return, we promise to show up, ask questions, try our best, and avoid emailing you at 1 a.m. unless the situation is truly catastrophic. You teach us more than what’s on the syllabus. You teach us how to think, how to adapt, and sometimes how to survive. And for that, we’re genuinely grateful. 

With respect, honesty, and a hope for fewer surprise assignments,
Your students