Respect My Authority!

Sometimes, I can’t believe what people will entrust me with.

Last summer, as a day camp counselor in my hometown of Denver, people let me be in charge of their kids.

This summer, I’m in charge of the parents.

For some reason, the Harvard Summer School deans thought it would be a good idea to put me in charge of 12 adult students. Not high school kids who I might actually be able to teach, or even like-minded college kids who could relate to my time at Harvard. I, a naïve, 20-year-old with little life experience and even less of an authoritative presence, am a proctor for people 25 years old and older.

Explaining the house’s “drinking rules” at our introductory meeting, for example, was quite awkward. A proctee invited me to go out to a bar with him and a few other men of, shall we say, “advanced” age and I had to respectfully (he is my elder, after all) decline his invitation.

“Um, thanks,” I stammered, “but I’m only 20.”

How am I supposed to tell these people what to do—give them instruction, enforce rules and be a disciplinarian when the situation calls—when they’re, at the very least, five years my senior?

Aye, there’s the rub.

Those “drinking rules” I had to explain at that first meeting? None to speak of, considering everyone’s of age. Add to the fact that they’re mostly from abroad—England, the Netherlands, Japan, Australia and Greece, just to name a few in my entryway—and it’s clear that their alcohol consumption is much more akin to “civilized social norm” than the “get-trashed-and-throw-up” mentality that seems to rule in American colleges.

Any curfews to enforce? Ha, good one. What about restrictions regarding members of different sexes in the same room late at night? Please, I could learn a thing or two (or three) from some of these guys.

My proctees are successful businessmen and lawyers, with wives and children, who must be sufficiently well-off to afford the steep price Harvard charges for two months at its summer school.

It only took a few days of proctoring duties for me to realize that this summer was simply history repeating itself: Like my summer experience last year, when the more animated (read: bad) kids I worked with taught me how to snap and step to a wonderful rendition of “Lean Wit It, Rock Wit It,” I entered the job to give instruction and ended up receiving much more of it than I divvyed out.

But it hasn’t all been one-sided. My grown-up proctees still have to fill out forms to have parties, they still have to adhere to quiet hours, and they're only allowed to have guests over for two nights. When a proctee broke her ankle two weeks ago, it was my job to respond. When one gets locked out, I’m the one that helps them back into their room.

I can be both teacher and pupil at the same time. I can learn, but still be a valuable resource. I always thought that being a proctor would end up being a pretty good deal (except for the Annenberg food, which I realized I never got used to eating), but it’s ending up paying dividends in ways that I never foresaw.

So what if I’m literally the youngest person living in my entire house this summer? It was Aristotle who said, “Young people are in a condition like permanent intoxication, because youth is sweet and they are growing.” Either he was talking about a different kind of intoxication than I’m visualizing, or he was never a 20-year-old proctor in the 25 and older house.

Malcom A. Glenn ’09, a Crimson associate sports chair and summer managing editor, is a history concentrator in Leverett House. He agrees with the late great singer Aaliyah—age ain’t nothing but a number.