“When intellectuals act as clerks and students act as clients, how do college teachers differ from corporate accountants?” the professor angrily writes. “…the sedulous banality of the rich degrades teaching into a service-class preoccupation whose chief duty is preparing clients for monied careers.”

Big words (I mean, he teaches at Harvard. I think it’s a prerequisite), but what the guy is basically saying that rich students make him feel like he’s not doing anything except helping them learn how to grow up and screw the little guys. Rich kids make this guy feel like he’s nothing more than a stepping stone toward big conglomerate world domination.

He’s sort of got a point, but it’s a moot one, because…I mean…duh.

A lot of insanely rich kids grow up believing most of the human race is there to serve them. I attended undergrad at a private liberal arts college where Gucci purses and Prada shoes were perfectly in place at 8:30 in the morning, and you better believe there were some kids with major attitude in class. A degree was something they simply had to tolerate before Daddy or Mommy or Uncle Dearest would set them up in some prime position at whatever giant company their family owned. Not everyone with a bangin’ bank account is rude and power hungry, but a lot of them are, and I’m pretty sure it’s been this way since Man first realized money made people pay attention.

So sure, that Harvard professor has a point, but mostly he has a stick up his ass. It’s too bad teachers in this country make radically low wages, but I think it’s kind of common knowledge that if you teach at Harvard, there are gonna be some prime rich douches running around with pocket watches and boat shoes. The only thing those of us without yachts and elevators in our houses can do is treat these kids just like we would treat anyone else, proving to them that wads of cash doesn’t give you permission to treat others like indentured servants.

Also, Mr. Angry Professor could try to do something a little more profitable than writing book reviews for the New York Observer. Perhaps creating an underground auction for college textbooks? Or maybe opening a small store dedicated to churning out Nantucket Red pleated shorts?

[photo from collegepublisher.com]

Apparently, there are loads of 20-Somethings just swarming the streets of NYC who are already married, buying houses, and having kids.

These “New Victorians” (as the article dubs them) are über-educated, über-driven, and kinda boring.

Most of them would rather spend the night at home with their significant other than go out on the town, renovate their bathroom instead of driving off on a road trip, and own 3 purebred cats instead of cruising by their local ASPCA for a big, hyper dog.

Somewhere along the line, these “New Vics” must have picked up enough money to do all these things by 27, because not many people I know in that age range have the kind of cash that allows for a steady, stable home in a city where a studio apartment can start at $1500 a month.

“I was at brunch with another couple the other day where all we talked about was farm shares,” exclaimed one interviewee barley over the age of 26, but sounding about 40.

In all my time in this city, I have never once talked about farm shares.

Someday I’d like to make it out to the country with a great husband and adorable kids, but I always figured it would be later. Living out your domestic bliss before you’ve had time to really work for it seems impatient—if not a little backwards.

If you’re redoing your bathroom at 28, what are you going to do when you’re 38? 48?? Redo it again?

So sure, my eyes tint a little green when I read about people my age who are comfortable and seem to have it all figured out, but coveting someone else’s life will get me nowhere. And if Britney Spears has taught me anything, it’s that having kids too young can seriously cramp your partying.

Besides, who knows? Maybe farm shares are still in my future.

Future being the operative word.