The role of the supervisor
I am a part-time university teacher because of this I cannot follow many final theses, even if I hardly reject any.
My subject, Organisational Psychology, is a "minor" subject in the Master of Science of Business Administration, the students are from all over the world and have chosen to take a course in English, in Italy, some of them are Italian.
They are curious, lively, interact, ask questions, stop at the break and at the end of the lesson to learn more. They ask for other books, other ideas. At the end of the course, I leave with a little bit of each of them, who knows if they leave with a little bit of me in return, too.
Even students who take the exam without attending are often brilliant. I know them anyway because I ask them a small essay. I need to understand how they reason, how they choose the topics, what they want to analyze.
Yesterday there was another graduation day.
I went there even if I was still under the aftermath of a nasty flu and only one thesis for my subject.
I always like to watch the students, they are beautiful. It is clear that they wear "big" clothes that do not belong to them (yet?). Many of them are emotioned. I wonder what their families are thinking as they listen to their passionate presentations in the language of Albion, how many of them understand what their kids, of which they are justifiably proud, are saying, how many would understand those sophisticated, inspired, innovative works, even if they were in Italian. I often turn to look at the audience in the back of the room, the other students waiting, the parents, and I smile, I think it is not typical of the professors, since, in response, I often receive a perplexed look.
It’s that I cannot help thinking about how much that day will remain in their memory, the day of their graduation. I wonder what they will remember most. always hope that it will always be a happy memory to draw confidence from on a rainy day.
Yesterday the student was brilliant. Given my painful conditions, colleagues kindly thought to whisper, when she finished: "if you want to go, don’t worry, your student is very good".
I felt invaded by an unjustified feeling of pride and gratitude. It is certainly not because of me that the student is good, but I am proud and grateful that she has chosen me to be, in some way, a vehicle of her happiness.
We got the praise.
I wish everyone moments of senseless gratitude.