I was teaching in southern Maryland several years ago when I met a student I’m calling DeAndre. That wasn’t really his name, but it would have fit.
DeAndre was the kind of student every professor likes to have. He was engaged with the topic of communication, always prepared for class, did outstanding work, and was well liked by everyone. He was a great dresser, to boot. When we had speeches, he wore dress slacks, a dress shirt with a tie, knit vest, and shiny shoes. That day was no different.
He came into class, this time carrying a backpack, which he placed carefully onto the floor next to his front row desk. He listened politely to the other students, offering his applause with great enthusiasm. Then it was his turn to speak.
He stood, picking up his backpack and placing it on his back. I asked, “DeAndre, why are you putting on your backpack?” He said (with a very cool tone in his voice), “Dr. Parmelee, it’s my visual aid.” Emphasis was clearly on the words “visual aid.” “Your what?” I asked. “Dr. Parmelee, it’s my visual aid,” he replied, once again stressing the words “visual aid” like the totally cool dude he was.
The second time he said what it was, he turned his back to the class and reached over to unzip the backpack. Suddenly, a thing shot out of the backpack. A very mad thing. A very big snake. “It’s my pet boa constrictor,” he told me.
“Get that thing out of here!” I shouted. He stuffed it back into the backpack and then took the snake (which was extremely mad, based on the wiggling of the backpack) outside into the hallway and put his bag on the floor. He returned, to give his speech.
Realizing that a wiggling backpack was not something to be left unattended, I asked another student, Matthew, to go out into the hallway and babysit the snake. Matthew turned very pale but went to watch the snake. I noticed that he kept his distance from the snake. I didn’t blame him.
Immediately after DeAndre finished his speech, I told him to leave campus and to take the snake with him. I reported DeAndre to the dean, who told me I should have called public safety. I told the dean that the snake was between me and the phone, so I wasn’t going anywhere near it. From that day forward, I included in my syllabi the information that anyone who brought a dangerous weapon or pet to class would be failed. So far, that’s the only boa constrictor who has ever attended college in my class. One snake was more than enough!
Best,
Dr. Sheri