How to make professors rebel

A while back, in commenting on the prevalence of fictional academics bedding their students, I wrote:

There is no fighting it; if a fictional character is a white male professor, nine times out of ten he’s sleeping with the co-ed. Why is this? Probably because, in the absence of illicit sex, our jobs appear to be intensely boring to the outside world.

Sleeping with students is not just for fictional treatments anymore — it’s also a trope for amusing nonfiction discussions. Laura Kipnis has a droll Slate essay on how colleges are dealing with professor-student relationships. My favorite part is when the profs rebel at a sensitivity training:

I signed up for a university sexual-harassment workshop. (Also two e-mail communiqués from the dean advised that nonattendance would be noted.) And what an education I received—though probably not the intended one. Things kicked off with a “Sexual Harassment Pretest,” administered by David, an earnest mid-50ish psychologist, and Beth, an earnest young woman with a masters in social work. It consisted of unanswerable true-false questions like: “If I make sexual comments to someone and that person doesn’t ask me to stop, then I guess that my behavior is probably welcome.” Everyone seemed grimly determined to play along—probably hoping to get out by cocktail hour—until we were handed a printed list of “guidelines.” No. 1: “Do not make unwanted sexual advances.” Someone demanded querulously from the back, “But how do you know they’re unwanted until you try?” (OK, it was me.) David seemed oddly flummoxed by the question, and began anxiously jangling the change in his pants pocket. “Do you really want me to answer that?” he asked. Another person said helpfully, “What about smoldering glances?” Everyone laughed. A theater professor guiltily admitted to complimenting a student on her hairstyle that very afternoon (one of the “Do Nots” on the pretest)—but wondered whether as a gay male, not to have complimented her would be grounds for offense. He started mimicking the female student, tossing her mane around in a “notice my hair” manner. People shouted suggestions for other pretest scenarios for him to perform. Rebellion was in the air. Someone who studies street gangs whispered to me, “They’ve lost control of the room.” David was jangling his change so frantically you had to strain to hear what anyone was saying. My attention glued to David’s pocket, I recalled a long-forgotten pop psychology guide to body language that identified change-jangling as an unconscious masturbation substitute.

Note to self — do not jangle change when lecturing. For more on professor-student relationships, see Glenn Reynolds and Amanda Butler. My opinion on the general mattter most closely mirrors Beth Plocharczyk‘s. [So what about your opinion specific to you?–ed. My opinion is that I’m happily married to an exceptionally witty and attractive woman — and she can operate pruning shears. Good answer!–ed.]