Hiya *smiley face*! Sorry I’m not there!! I was in bed with my boyf and he got some hand cream in his eye so I took him to hospital but the car broke down and we had to wait for the green flag man and got chatting with him before we went to a‘n’e but were here now and boyf is fine lol!!!

This is an email from one of my students explaining why she wasn’t at a lecture. Unfortunately, it’s not unusual for me to receive messages like this. It’s as if my students don’t understand the difference between formal communication and social media; as if chattiness and cheek will make up for the fact that they’re missing class for the sixth week in a row; as if they don’t realise that the more detailed the excuse, the more unbelievable it sounds.

“My dad came back from holiday on Saturday so I need to see him and I thought it was Tuesday but when I just looked at my phone it’s Thursday! You must think I’m really dozy!!”

“OMG I literally just woke up 20 minutes ago and it takes me 30 mins to get ready and another 15 to walk in to uni so shall we just give it a miss this week???!!!”

“Im sorry but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to this mornings lecture as my car has seized up. Im going to sit and play with it to try and get the old girl started but im not holding out hope as she hates cold weather.”

Occasionally they’re sweet and thoughtful: “I heard that there was only seven people in today’s lecture. I now feel way worse for not being there. Hope you weren’t to disheartened and enjoyed the lecture/your day anyway.”

I ignore the drunk ones, unlike a US professor named Mr Martin, whose response to an inebriated student went viral last year. When Patrick Davidson went boozing instead of writing an essay, his request for an extension was less than professional: he said he was sorry for Martin’s baldness, offered to hook him up with a girl, and encouraged him to “keep slayin’ boi”. Martin’s response, after granting the extension, was measured: “What were you drinking last night? Next time you email me I’d like a bottle of whatever you had so I don’t have to remember what you said.”

I wonder if these overfamiliar emails are intended to create a connection, or find some form of validation. My students, mostly millennials, are of the instant gratification generation. Most can’t get through a whole lecture without checking their phones. They send emails like Snapchats – writing whatever is in their heads at any hour of the day or night, expecting an immediate response. They sometimes send them to me while I’m standing at the front of the class lecturing.

I don’t check my inbox during the evening or at weekends, because I’d be responding constantly: peak student email time is 1-3am. They start with: “I realise you probably won’t get back to me straight away…” or “Your probs busy looking after your family but I wanted to get some feedback today on my essay from last year…”; “I know you have a life outside uni, but…”

The classic ones are “I really fancy you” or “I love you”, which are usually followed a few minutes later by “Ha, someone stole my phone lmao!!”

The ultimate email, now legendary in my office, was from a postgraduate student on the day of her viva. We’d spent weeks trying to coordinate the meeting, getting the right people from different campuses to the same place at the same time. We managed to schedule half an hour, and impressed upon the student how important it was that we started promptly at noon. We waited, waited some more, and after a full 15 minutes an email arrived: “Running late. Put a potato in the oven for lunch and it isn’t ready yet.”

Disrespect is one thing, but when someone prioritises a baked potato over you, it feels like contempt.

My students often send emojis. To me that simply says the writer is unable to express him or herself adequately in the English language and needs a pictogram to explain what they mean. I also despise the use of hashtags in emails, ironically or otherwise, and I see far too many LOLs, LMFAOs and OMGs.

There is a worrying lack of understanding underlying all of this. This generation seems use a single voice for all communication – shouting non-stop into the abyss of the internet, expecting a response. When they start applying for jobs, or using email in work environments, they’ll be at a huge disadvantage.

So what can we do about it? We can continue to be amused, irritated and annoyed, or we can try to help. Manners, like all behaviours, need to be taught. If a person hasn’t mastered appropriate use of language and expression by the age of 18, they’re going to have to learn it in university.

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