You didn’t go to Holland last week, all you Americans who aren’t allowed to go. I went, and I’ll tell you about it. I hope you’ll eat your hearts out.
I’d been invited a few weeks earlier to keynote a conference of LNVH, the organization of Dutch women science professors. I’m no scientist, but in my “Ms. Mentor” persona, I’ve been dispensing brilliant advice to academic women for over 20 years.
Ms. Mentor, who writes in third person haughty (her first idol was Miss Manners), has published two books and a monthly Chronicle of Higher Education column, now archived on the Net.
When the Dutch women invited her to share her perfect wisdom, she and I couldn’t say no. (We’re not the same. She’s taller, has a deeper voice and loves heavy metal.)
Unlike my previous trip to Holland, plane squashed with seven seats across, this was divine. And no shoes. I strolled onto my porch in Louisiana, fired up my laptop, hit the link – and by the grace of Zoom, I was there.
Later I’ll recount my fabulous adventures.
