My Dearest Professor,
What do I say to the man whose name has been in the forefront of my brain and sliding off my lips every evening for the past few months…as I painstakingly worked, reworked, and analyzed one statistics problem after another? Surely verbal murmurings could venture not to – likely should never – express such fixated thoughts and feelings.
In truth, you brought me to a level of satisfaction I never knew existed. You flung wide the door to that place of mystery where I only dared glance through its crack before. You made statistics exciting, useful and alive; and you now have me believing that I am an unadulterated researcher, daily inputting and critically analyzing mounds of otherwise desolate data.
I only hope you don’t forget my wistful daydream that I once shared with you – among the confines of a frustrated classroom of doctoral students. I’m still besotted by my little fantasy of serving as your assistant for at least one final semester (lest I drive everyone else around me mad, attempting to run data they probably didn’t want or truly never needed).
With all my heartfelt gratitude,
Yes, I truly loved our Stats Professor, now retired. (I think our class wore him down, though we all did adore him.) Amazing how I took a year of Stats as an undergrad (working every single problem in our textbooks), and more statistics in grad school (plugging lots of information into SPSS); but it wasn’t until I was in my doctoral program that the concepts finally came to life, became practical, had meaning – and everything I learned came together to serve the purpose they were meant to serve. So, yes…that part was exciting (for at least 5.7 minutes).
With that being said, my facetious little letter above is a humorous blend of different types of frustration, if you will (the sensual humor being purely fictional). We must all eventually acknowledge that there statistically exists a plenitude of liars in both categories. And for the record, in no way do I lust after anything statistics-related…professors included. 😉
3a : a narrow break : fissure <a crack in the ice>
b : a narrow opening <leave the door open a crack><cracks between floorboards> —used figuratively in phrases like fall through the cracks to describe one that has been improperly or inadvertently ignored or left out <a player who fell through the cracks in the college draft> <children slipping through the cracks of available youth services>