TMI!

Dear Students,

Over the past two months, I've discovered that I really enjoy teaching. I get somewhat of a high off of seeing the light bulbs go off in your brain or seeing you progress from simple to more complex ways of thinking. While I find this invigorating, there is one element of my job I hate: the TMI emails. What does this mean, you ask?

For starters, I don't need to know about your reproduction system. Your pregnancy is truly a beautiful thing...for your family. I don't need to know about what you threw up this morning or how your baby is sitting on your bladder making you pee. Second, I don't need to know about your legal run-ins. Telling me about how the cops busted your party last night because you and 46 of your closest underage friends were doing beer bongs in your underwear. I also don't need to know about your DUI's, or about how your boyfriend filed a restraining order against you because you bit off a chunk of his shoulder. Finally, I don't need to know about what sickness you missed class for. It is sufficient to bring a note saying you were ill. Knowing what was coming out of what hole with what consistency is unnecessary. Also, don't tell me about your urinary tract infections (as a friend's student described). That's okay -- I'll trust you on this one.

I know you think I can relate to you because I'm young. However, I was never pregnant, arrested, or ebola-ridden when I was an undergrad; I don't want to share experiences here.

With deepest affection,
Sean