[This post comes from a previous blog.]

Parents today come from a generation that believes in getting what they pay for. The more they pay for something, the more they’re getting out of that thing, dammit. This includes their child’s education. And this is where they start getting right on my tits [non-gender-specific British saying for being really effing annoying] . Here in hallowed halls of higher education we call them “helicopter parents” and they are a flipping pain in the ass. They’re paying for their darling snowflake angels to go to school here and they feel that the tuition covers getting As.

I would have defenestrated myself before I would have allowed (forget about ask) my parent to call the university. Today I had a kid (and I don’t care if I’m close to your age–if your mommy is on my phone, you’re a kid) call who would rather go through the hoops of the paperwork to allow his mother to talk to his professor. It’s illegal for our profs to talk to parents about their kids because after they’re eighteen THEY’RE GROWN UPS.

The helicopter today was trying to argue that her kid should be given a higher grade because he’s had a difficult life and he’s really handsome. I wanted to say that if she thought he wasn’t capable of handling college (since he’s so special and had such a hard time) maybe he should seek his fortune elsewhere. Her chief problem was that this grade would mean he’d be in college an extra semester. My response: That’s not the end of the world. It takes longer than four years to finish a degree now.

After a pause she said, “It may be for him.”

I suppose that was her only counter for my statement. I can’t say it’s convincing. Does he have some sort of incendiary device attached to him that goes off if he doesn’t get what he wants just when and how he wants it? (Oh yeah, her name is MOOOOOOOM!)

After twice speaking with this helicopter–or listening to her yammer (these parents tend to talk a LOT and very quickly) I thought the kid probably was embarrassed by her and would be apologetic if I ever spoke to him. Oh no. He called later on and I offered to let him speak to the department chair, but he wanted his mummy to talk to him.

And that’s when the vestige of bad I felt evaporated.

Then there was much discussion about how late was too late to get his grade converted. Because the mother was absolutely certain that if she comes to talk to the department chair she’ll browbeat him into changing the grade. Uh huh. She’s going to say how another prof said this kid was such a nice student (he didn’t do what he needed to in the class in question, though) and how he can do good work when he tries (didn’t try in the class though.) And how he’s had a hard life and that an extra semester will make him explode or some such.

I only hope that the mother can’t talk the prof into giving this wee bairn the points because that would only teach him that being an obnoxious prat pays off. They both need to learn that’s not true. See? College is about teaching everyone involved important life lessons.

Update: The mother won. She yammered at the dept head for twenty minutes and he caved. Another point for the obnoxious people.