There's no shortage of advice on what to expect in your first year of college. People will tell you to join clubs and to drink responsibly. They will promise that college is a special time in your life, so don't forget to have some fun. There are cutesy reminders to stay active and hydrated. Of course, none of these pieces of advice are wrong. They do, however, neglect to address the most integral, universal, and identity-defining experience faced by each and every bright-eyed and bushy-tailed incoming college student: crying in front of a professor. If you're a first-year student who's just now hearing of this, do not fret. The first step is accepting that your flowing tears are not a matter of if, but when. Take solace in the fact that you are not alone in your eventual fate: every college graduate you know has at least one story of "The Breakdown." The good news is that you can prepare for the forthcoming blubbering, and I'm here to tell you how.
In the realm of tears, damage control is best found in being proactive. Forget about unpacking, getting familiar with the campus, or staying on top of schoolwork; the first week of school is all about choosing the professor whom you wish to witness your display of waterworks. Your first instinct might be to find the most kind and forgiving professor, but exercise caution. My (first) professor-in-the-vicinity cry involved a Chemistry prof who was the Molly Weasley to my Harry Potter. Of course, those minutes in her office were blissful: my unexpected and uncontrollable sobs were met with chocolate, tissues, and back pats. However, she spent the rest of the year checking up on me, asking if I was feeling better since "our little visit" whenever we passed each other in the halls. Well-intentioned, but humiliating. The ideal professor is one who's nurturing enough to let you indulge in your own breakdown without judgment, but stony enough to let you forget it happened once you leave their office. My advice is to look out for the professor who at first seems to be on the stern side, but still has their children's crayon drawings hanging on their office door. That's the sweet spot.
Once you have identified an optimal professor, the next step of the operation is to consider is timing. Of course, the nature of breakdowns is that they're unpredictable-- if we could decide when they happen, "in front of my professor" would not be on the list. However, at least in my experience, stress tears tend to have a bit of a palpable lead-up, so you might be able to maneuver your (and your professor's) schedule to minimize inconvenience. Take my (second) near-professor cry as an example of what not to do: after a few class meetings, I asked the professor to stay a little late and discuss whether I was enrolled in the right level of French. She asked me to follow her to her office so she could get a few things ready while we talked, so I did. About twenty minutes later, I was in tears and her phone and computer were having a collective fit with reminders that she was ten minutes late to a meeting with the rest of the French department. I must have looked tragically pathetic enough, though, because she kept silencing the pinging alarms long enough for her colleague to come check on her. I don't know what's most uncomfortable: walking in on a whimpering 18-year-old, being discovered harboring a whimpering 18-year-old, or being the whimpering 18-year-old. What I do know, though, is that it's best to err on the side of caution and schedule a meeting time over e-mail, or at least ask if you can shut the door during your professor's office hours-- if you're going to make them watch you cry, you can at least let them do it while they're on the clock.
When that fateful day comes, embrace it. Mitigate damages, enjoy the rite of passage, and learn a thing or two. Hey, that's pretty good advice for all of college, actually.
