On the corner of Fifth Avenue and E. 13th Street, in front of The New School University Center, two black metal folding chairs sit facing each other. On the back of the empty chair there’s a piece of printer paper that reads “Parsons Professor: Free Advice.” Across from the empty chair sits Rodger Stevens, a sculptor and part-time professor at Parsons.
Stevens sits in front of the UC twice a week and offers free advice to any student at The New School who takes a seat across from him. A former New School student himself, Stevens first offered his ear to students via Zoom when classes were shifted online. When students and faculty returned to campus, he decided around the middle of the semester to continue offering sessions in person.
“When we went remote, it really rattled a lot of us,” Stevens said. “I was watching my own kids struggling in high school, in lockdown, and these kids [my students] really struggled.”
He recalled receiving phone calls from his students asking for guidance — whether they should take a gap year, if they should transfer, and other questions on school-related topics. During these phone calls, Stevens would do his best to give advice based on his own experience as a student at The New School, his role as an educator and his insight as a father — and that’s how “the advice professor” began, he said.
After meeting with a former student outside the University Center one day in August, Stevens decided to see if other students across the university could use his advice as well.
“I sat out here with one of my freshman students who I [hadn’t] seen in a couple of years — he’s a junior now. We started talking, and he was talking about being a fashion design major, and the pros and cons [and] the challenges etc,” Stevens said. “While we’re here, I was like, ‘you know, I’m just gonna sit as soon as we’re done talking, and see if anyone [else] wants to talk.’”
He pulled a piece of printer paper and a marker out of his bag, made the sign on the back of the chair, and immediately people sat down and started talking to him.
“Half of all the people who sat down started crying, and they just seem[ed] so destabilized,” Stevens said. “Everyone just needed someone to listen, which is mostly what I was doing. I don’t know if I’m qualified to dispense any real advice, but at least it seemed they were responding.”
After that first day, he realized how meaningful his advice sessions were to students, and decided to make it a weekly occurrence. Stevens sits in his chair every Wednesday and Friday during a two-hour gap he has in between his classes, and waits for students to come and vent.
“People sit down and I say ‘what’s up?’ Almost all of them are like, ‘um, what are you doing? Like, free advice?’ I [ask], ‘yeah, what’s up?’ And then in minutes or seconds it’s just on, and they just talk,” Stevens said.
He listens to each student — often with a line of people waiting — and talks about whatever they want, academic or personal. There’s no time limit to the conversation. Students are free to say as much as they want and go on for however long they feel they need to.
“It seems that there are [a few] issues that keep recurring,” Stevens said. “A general sense of anxiety amongst the freshmen about being in New York City, being in a school, [and] having trouble socializing — especially with masks on. After that 18-month period of not really seeing anyone, [some ask] how to reacclimate to a world [with other] human beings.”
And then there are students on the opposite end of the spectrum, Stevens said, “…upperclassmen who are about to graduate are like, ‘I’m not ready, I don’t know what to do for a living. I don’t know how to begin.’”
Students mostly come to Stevens to discuss issues in their classes, troubles with their roommates or significant others and how to cope with the ongoing pandemic. On occasion, when a student approaches Stevens with a heavier topic, he encourages them to reach out to a more qualified professional.
“I’m a first pass, maybe, at airing out some of their issues,” he said.
Stevens’ more informal setting and acumen — compared to a licensed therapist — may be integral to his appeal and ultimately his usefulness to The New School student body. Stevens believes that his curbside office offers an opportunity for empathy and connection that is more comfortable and accessible than speaking with a professional.
“It’s not a 30 minute therapy session … no one’s taking notes on them,” Stevens said. “They seem quite at ease.”
Standing in line for a chat with Stevens, a first year student at Lang shared that she felt she needed someone to talk to about mental health issues that she had been struggling with.
“I already know what I need to do deep down, but I just need someone to tell me,” said the student, who asked to be anonymous in order to discuss personal matters. “It sounds silly but that’s just how my brain works.”
Stevens doesn’t aim to take the place of a licensed professional, however, he does provide another option for students to speak about their struggles. The process for speaking with a counselor through The New School’s Student Health Services comes with far more steps and a longer wait than a talk with Stevens. Outside therapy, meanwhile, can be costly and not all health insurances cover it.
During Stevens’ interview with The New School Free Press, a pair of students approached the professor. The pair — both former students of his — took a second to stop and talk with Stevens.
One student, a third-year illustration major and Free Press illustrator Mikael Choukroun, said Stevens “was very personal with everyone and was able to really appeal to everyone’s needs” in class.
Choukroun said Stevens would teach the entire class, which was held on Zoom, while standing up, as he often showed a passion for the subject and a dedication to his students. Once, after a student showed an interest in graffiti, Stevens held a whole lecture on the subject, Choukroun said.
“He was super informed and was always there for you if you needed some more information [on the subject],” Choukroun said.
He wasn’t shocked to learn that Stevens has been giving students advice outside of the UC.
“It doesn’t [surprise me],” Choukroun said. “His eccentricity mixed up with his ability to just be there for the students … I’m not surprised at all.”
Many students who have taken a class with the Parsons professor still seek out his advice. Stevens said that former students reach out often, looking for career advice or simply guidance in navigating their young lives.
“I love the fact that these kids — and they were kids when they came in — [are] now starting their careers and they still care to contact the teacher,” Stevens said. “I love being there for them. I wish I had someone like that.”
Stevens recalled relationships between professors and students being different when he attended Parsons from 1994 to 1999.
“When I went here most of the teachers showed up, they taught and they were gone,” Stevens said. “The idea of having a mentor never crossed my mind. Now that I’m an adult and I see how hard it was to become an artist, I have so much to share.”
Stevens views each of his students as more than someone to develop a passing, semester-long relationship with. He wants to be there for them as long as they need, or whenever they need – an asset at their disposal, he said.
“It makes you so much more invested because I’m not thinking ‘alright, I’m dealing with this person for three months, one semester, and I’ll never see them again,’” Stevens said. “I’m thinking ‘oh no no no, I want to come to your opening in 10 years.’ I tell them ‘you get to use my email, I’m your teacher for life. You don’t have to report back to me, but just so you know I’ll always be happy to hear from you.’”
A queue formed in front of Stevens’ chair during his interview, with each person in line looking to speak with him. At least one student waiting was seeing Stevens for the second time. He said it’s not uncommon for students to keep coming back to speak with him.
After just a few weeks as a pseudo-therapist, Stevens has a sizable client list. While he doesn’t know how long he’ll continue, he said that helping in whatever way he can has been a rewarding experience.
“One of the most comforting ideas that I try to communicate is that they’re not alone in their struggles,” Stevens said. “I guess it appears as if everyone around them is quite together. They’re really well dressed and they seem to be coming and going from class and talking with friends. And I tell them this is a pretty ubiquitous problem — struggling to get your footing here.”
After our interview Stevens attended to the students awaiting his input one-by-one. In his chair Stevens doesn’t try to be a therapist — he can’t diagnose or offer the expertise of a professional. Instead, he gives many students something they seem to have been missing before encountering the professor outside the UC. Stevens gives them space to air their grievances, articulate their inner thoughts and worries. He lends an ear and is an empathetic confidant. More than anything, Stevens never hesitates to remind students that he has their back, and he means it. For some students, that’s really all they need.