Professor Archetypes: The Tweedster
Written by Bwog Staff
With pre-Kerouac horn-rimmed glasses and a penchant for using Yiddish terminology in lecture, the Tweedster is both your favorite professor of all time and your grandfather’s Long Beach High Class of ‘48 classmate. You could fit two of your Wien singles into their southern-facing (northern light is for scholars of Africa, Asia, South America) Fayerweather 6 palaces and still have room leftover for each edition of their twenty-two published volumes of history.
The Tweedster could spend your entire lecture recounting anecdotes of Delancey Street back when Sammy’s Roumanian was cheap and no one would mind. The Tweedster does not want to see your cell phone. The Tweedster does not want to hear you talk about the signified and the signifier. The Tweedster does not fuck with Foucault. This isn’t University Writing, son. The Tweedster and his tweedy friends live in Morningside Heights ca. 1952. We didn’t know from Gender Theory then, and it was better that way.
Illustration by Suzanna Buck