My New Year's Resolution this year was to not accept any behavior from students that I would not accept from my own children. This doesn't seem like it should be a very high bar to reach, given that my youngest child is not yet 2, but you'd be surprised. Or maybe you wouldn't. My sisters, Real World Skipper and Stacy, tell me horror stories about colleagues and subordinates who think "I lost track of time." is a legitimate reason for a 3 hour coffee break or that sharing the gory details of your last vodka binge with a virtual stranger is an appropriate work behavior. So now I am on a quest: to do my best to make sure that the young people who pass through my door are at least marginally prepared to go out into the world and, if nothing more, pretend to be grown ups (which in reality is what most of us are doing anyway--pretending).
My first battle in this war has been over cell phones. Now don't get me wrong; I love my phone. Well no, I love the concept of having a cell phone, but I'm not particularly enamored with my current model. That's not relevant. The point is, I have no objection to the concept of a cell phone. What I do object to is having to send messages like the following: