If I Had Only Thought to Say It

"I'm a liberal, pro-choice, lesbian atheist, and I'm sure that both of your children will benefit from a semester with me."

Now, that's what I should have said.

As this new academic year began, the only bit of drama was a father who came to my second class on Monday. He wanted to know if I would allow his daughter, a twin in a different professor's class, to join her brother, who had me.

"Yes, I would mind," I replied.

"So you don't mind?" he asked again. I guess this guy was not used to a woman thwarting his goal. He had that ultra-conservative, religious, home-schooling vibe.

"I said that yes, I do mind. She'll be fine in the other professor's class." In my head, I added, This is college, not kindergarten.

"But they'll be separated by two buildings!" he emphasized.

When I wouldn't budge, he tapped a young man on the shoulder and said, "Let's go, Justin. Maybe the other professor will take you." Embarrassed, the kid followed his father out of the room.

I guess the other professor—the kind, flexible one—did take Justin, as the young man did not return. I feel sorry for that colleague, whoever she/he is, because that one moment of kindness and flexibility will mean a semester's worth of a helicopter daddy interfering in the twins' education—and probably the professor's teaching, too. I feel sorry for Justin and his sister, who both have so little autonomy that they cannot navigate the first day of college, a passage into adulthood, without the presence of their father.

I'm really quite proud of myself, though. Not that many years ago, I would have let myself be bullied by a parent making such a request and would not have realized the consequences until it was way too late.