No one gives a shit if you have a Ph.D. in Art History—except you, maybe.
All I care about is coming to class and learning about my dead predecessors, because as an art student I feel that it is my responsibility to learn where we have been in order to know where we are going. However, all you care about is having your overweening ego satisfied, which is why you demand that we call you “professor” or “doctor.” Your pathological need for acknowledgement renders you completely unable to accept the fact that you’re just like the rest of us and that your Ph.D. doesn’t make you special. Oh, you think I’m wrong about you? I’m not always right, but I’m never wrong. I mean, if you’re not a whore for acknowledgement, then why would you spend a full five minutes instructing the class on how to format our e-mails to you and telling us that we are required to begin with one of two salutations: “Dear Professor” or “Dear Doctor?” I don’t even call my physician “doctor,” so why the fuck would I call you that? Maybe your mother didn’t give you enough attention while you were growing up, or maybe you’re just so insecure that you have to wave your academic achievements in people’s faces at a fucking community college, but whatever the hell it is, shut the fuck up and remember one thing: No one gives a shit if you have a Ph.D. in Art History.