ethics - Should a young professor avoid using dating apps? - Academia Stack Exchange
My advice is distilled from my own experiences as student, but also from the wealth of tricks I've learned Teaching is rarely, if ever, the top concern for a professor. . Regardless of priority, register for classes on the earliest possible date. If a. What should you say to your professor? Everything you read about A little background behind my recommendations: When students have. This is a guest post by Leon Harris. Leon Harris is a writer for PUA where you can find great tips and advice about the art of seducing your.
Compliment them subtly, or outright during office hours. We made it onto the [lower half of the] top-ten public university list this year, would it kill you to dig deep for an ounce of creativity? Is that really the best you can come up with?
Step it up to get it up, Gauchos! Ilene Dover, fourth year, Computer Science Major: Be a shameless flirt.
College tips: Advice from a professor
Here are some of my foolproof lines. Maybe you can teach me?
Harley McCool, fifth year Sociology Major: I think the best part about getting with my Gender Studies professor was learning how a woman can properly pleasure another woman. When I got my paper back, her number was at the top with a note. That research involved less time touching books and more time touching each other.
Edgar Crosslegged, second year Gender Studies Major: I personally have not done this but a super close friend told me that professors from every department have an orgy with their favorite students. Admittance is by invitation only. He got in by offering to buy his professor some coffee and then inviting himself over to his apartment.
Within a week, his professor could not get enough of him. These invitations come out during dead week so hurry up and get to cuffing this season. Okay, we all have to admit that something about professors having their way with you is such a turn on.
I slept with him, repeatedly, over the course of several years. It all began 10 years this week. I was 17, and he At first it was innocent enough. I bummed a smoke off him at morning lecture break. We chatted about the Epic of Gilgamesh, or something similarly innocuous and liberal-artsy.
He wore Ray-Bans before they made a comeback, plaid before it became a hipster trend, and he had a nervous, charming, rambling beatnik-meets-Tom Waits aura about him like he was on the verge of either mental collapse or genius. We drank, we smoked pot, we drank some more. All of a sudden it was just him and me left on his scratchy tartan couch.
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Surrounded by empty bottles of red wine and smoky stacks of collected rare books, you can imagine what happened next. The rest of my undergrad experience was peppered with our sexual encounters and spirited — at times dangerous — adventures. I became friends with his young sons.
College tips, tricks and hacks
I met his mother. I hosted soirees for faculty and students alike at his downtown apartment. One night, we got a little too carried away and he was arrested for drunk driving, with yours truly in the passenger seat.
It even made the front page of the local news.
My laid-back, west coast father came to the east coast and met him. Then my hardworking, big city mother came to the east coast and met him. My friends were polarized — they thought the relationship was either charming or revolting. As for me, I felt emboldened.