I used to believe that professors forgot about their students after the semester ended.
Not in a dramatic way, just in a normal one. New classes, new faces, new names to forget and mispronounce. Can they remember someone who isn’t particularly loud in class, someone who doesn’t camp out in office hours, someone like me, who didn’t say anything necessarily groundbreaking to stand out in their memory?
I was very surprised when they did.
I checked out some books for her while at work, and mentioned her class, which I took my freshman year, and how it impacted my decision to study abroad. I was expecting a polite nod and a quick escape (which I would understand because it was totally out of the blue). Instead, she remembered that class and what we talked about two years ago! She even asked me follow-up questions about my trip. This interaction led to my discovery that professors are, in fact, real people with functioning long-term memory.
This wasn’t a one-time thing either. A few past professors I’ve run into have stopped to talk. Not just a “hi, hope you’re well” conversation, but an actual pause in their day. They’ve asked what I’m doing now, and they seem genuinely interested in the answer.
Every time this happens, it throws off my internal narrative. Because in my head, professors are busy, brilliant, and slightly intimidating humans who do not have time to care about every single individual student once the semester is over. And I think I know why I believe that…
I am terrible at office hours.
Office hours are one of those things everyone insists are great. Professors love them. Advisors recommend them. Upperclassmen (but mostly tour guides) swear they’re life-changing. According to popular belief, office hours are where meaningful academic relationships are born, careers are shaped, and students casually drop by to have stimulating intellectual conversations.
For me, office hours feel like an elaborate social experiment that are designed to expose my deepest insecurities (a bit dramatic, I know). But what’s most fascinating about this dilemma is that I was kind of a pro at chit chat and office hours my freshman year. Probably because people swore by them. To this day, I have no idea what changed…
Today, I never know how to start. Do I knock? Sit silently until acknowledged? What if I don’t actually have a question? What if my question is stupid? What if the professor can tell I’m only there because everyone said I should go?
There’s also that constant fear that I am wasting their time. That they’re secretly annoyed I showed up. That I interrupted something super important. Even though they are the ones who literally scheduled this time for students to come talk to them.
Logically, I understand that professors chose this job because they like teaching. Many of them genuinely enjoy talking about their research, their fields, and their work with interested students. Emotionally, however, my brain insists that I am an inconvenience until proven otherwise.
This same fear shows up in class.
I don’t talk much because I don’t want to sound stupid. I don’t want to ask something everyone else already understands. I don’t want to say the wrong thing, get corrected, and spend the rest of the semester convinced that’s how the professor remembers me. So I just sit, take notes, and nod my head. That is my level of participation. But then I wonder why professors don’t seem to know me. It’s a weird (and totally fixable) cycle.
But that’s why those small moments, being remembered, being stopped, being asked about my life, feel so jolting. They suggest that maybe professors notice more than we think. Maybe caring doesn’t always look like deep mentorship or long conversations. Maybe it looks like remembering a student’s name. Or recalling a class they took years ago. Or asking what they’re doing now and actually listening to the answer.
It’s also possible that professors are standing on the other side of this awkward gap, wondering why so many students never come to office hours. Why does no one ask questions? Why does the room go silent when they pause for discussion?
Everyone assumes the other side isn’t interested. So do our professors care about us?
Of course they do! Probably more than we expect, and sometimes more than we let them. The real problem might not be a lack of care, but a lack of confidence. A fear of sounding stupid. A fear of being boring. A fear of taking up space where we’re not sure we belong.
Office hours aren’t hard because professors don’t want us there. They’re hard because being seen is scary.
This is definitely something I’m trying to master again, so if you have any tips, share em’!