Mark. Call me “Mark.” That’s what I ask of my students during “housekeeping” on the first day of class. I ask that because I don’t have a Ph.D. Yet they keep calling me “Professor” or “Doctor.” It’s happened so often that I no longer take the time to correct them. I ask that I be called by my first name because when those students launch their careers they’ll refer to their colleagues by their first names.
Universities are different animals, though, far removed from the commercial sector. Academics, those with a doctorate, express their expertise by adopting the title “Dr.” That’s fine since they’ve earned it and it helps gain instant authority in the classroom. Some require students to use the title to massage their egos. I once asked a close colleague with whom I share a meal often why she even insists even service personnel including waiters & waitresses refer to her by her title. She said unhesitatingly, “Because I worked hard for it.” It’s not clear the gentleman taking our orders cares how hard either of us works. He cares if we tip well.
My teaching helps universities keep their promises
I don’t have a Ph.D. but I’ve taught at 2 major private universities. I’ve been an instructor while earning my living using the knowledge and skills accumulated in the commercial workplace for 40 years. Many professionals without doctorates teach for extra income. I’ve taught for 20+ years because I’m aware so many young adults who earn their diplomas encounter roadblocks when trying to get jobs, unaware they haven’t received sufficient training in workplace skills. I feel strongly that training in those skills is a corporate or professional responsibility, as it was when I launched my career. But many employers have placed the burden on universities. The realization came to me when I found the need to mentor my company’s college interns in areas they thought they understood; eventually I accepted many guest speaker invitations from professors at various colleges and universities where the Q&A portions revealed a surprising lack of understanding of the very course I spoke in; and finally, I was offered the opportunity to teach a couple of classes. And so, I did. (That’s when I discovered I loved classroom teaching. And students appreciated being treated as an equal and hearing stories about what was happening in the “real world of business” now.)
Teaching sharpens a professional’s skills and impacts young lives. But the dated vocabularies and methodologies presented in many textbooks make the job disheartening at times just as it is to discover senior faculty sometimes hasn’t remained current. (That’s not the case with academic subjects including philosophy, English composition, history and the like. They don’t evolve. But occupation-focused curricula, hospitality, media relations, broadcasting, and the like, change at the speed of technology.)
Welcome to the real world
I’ve never asked to be called “Professor” or “Dr.” since I haven ’t earned the titles. If I had a Ph.D., though, I still would not ask colleagues, students, or anyone to refer to me by that title. But that’s a story for another day.
Years back, whenever senior faculty or an administrator would refer to me as “Professor” it was flattering yet awkward. Later, when my students addressed me by that title it felt even more so.
In what American students call “the real world,” we don’t refer generally to our superiors, our supervisors, or our bosses by exalted titles—or even by “Ms.” or “Mr.” So, to get them ready I did my damndest to forgo an exalted title.
On the first day of every semester, after rattling off my qualifications for teaching the curriculum, I’ve announced to my new students I wish to be called by my first name, “Mark.” Because that’s how they’ll refer to their associates in the “real world.” But students are accustomed to calling their university teachers “Dr.” or “Professor” (many instructors insist), and so that’s what they call me.
The money’s not in the title
I’ve stopped correcting them. They’ve been trained. I’ve discussed the irony of the matter with associates outside the university. As a result, many of those outside colleagues and associates began calling me “Professor,” so I’ve played into their kidding by adopting the title for myself in the “real world”—but not in the classroom!
Everyone has their own needs, wants, and desires. People who earn doctorates have undergone a great deal of “academic rigor” (a kind of “civilized intellectual hazing”) and are rewarded with the title “Dr.” Give them the privilege. Most full-time faculty members don’t earn compensation they could if they started their careers earlier or carried their titles into the commercial sector. Industry pays dearly for the opportunity to merchandise their staff “Dr.” Smaller firms often “rent” university experts with the title “Dr.” on a freelance basis.
The scenario is similar to that in commercial banking, a business sector with high-end imagery but where the pay isn’t great. The rewards for middle managers aren’t dollars, they’re bankers hours, an environment where peers wear civilized business suits, and are recognized soon after they’re hired with titles from “Vice President” on up.
Higher education is great. The feeling of walking on a college campus with purpose is special. But the money isn’t in teaching, even for those who have earned doctorates. For teaching, you get bankers hours and a title. The money isn’t even in research (unless you’re effective in attracting grant money). Most people forget research is a major mission of a university. The money is in the administration of a university. After all, they’re large tax-advantaged corporations requiring management prowess, advanced degrees (universities must demonstrate a belief in their own products), and the ability to raise tax-free funds from loyal nostalgic alumni and other sources. In other words, substantial salaries are awarded to those with superior workplace skills.