Dr Nfor N. Nde Nyambi

Just recalled one of the funniest traditions during my years as a PhD Candidate 😂

The very day you gained admission into the PhD programme, everybody suddenly started greeting you as “Doc.” No publication, no proposal defence, no coursework completed… just vibes and cruise.

After surviving the first year, the title upgraded to “Docteur” — now with a little French prestige attached to the suffering.

The moment you submitted your thesis for review, people became even more respectful: “Docta.” At this stage, you were walking around like a half-cooked academic legend 😅

Then came the defence. Once you passed, ahhh… nobody called your real name anymore. It was now “Doctor” with full authority and unnecessary shoulder movement 😂

But the final evolution only happened after recruitment by the grace and mercy of “The Head of State.” That is when the ultimate title descended from heaven:

“GRAND DOC” 👑🤣

PhD life was truly a journey of fun

One of the most controversial and, in my view, deeply fallacious statements many of us heard from some of our seniors and peers during our university days was this:

“A 12 average in Dschang is equivalent to a 16 or more average at the University of Buea or Bamenda.”

This assertion was repeated so often that many students accepted it as unquestionable truth. We were communicated to believe that the University of Dschang was uniquely rigorous and intellectually superior, while other universities were portrayed as less demanding.

There is no doubt that studying at Dschang was challenging. The academic standards were high, the workload intense, and the expectations exacting. Those of us who passed through the institution know the resilience and discipline it required.

But does acknowledging the rigour of Dschang automatically mean that universities like Buea or Bamenda were less rigorous?

I do not think so.

That conclusion is both unfair and logically flawed. Every university has its own standards, culture, and academic demands. A student earning a 16 at the University of Buea or Bamenda may have worked just as hard and demonstrated just as much brilliance as a student earning a 12 elsewhere.

Over the years, I have encountered many outstanding scholars and lecturers at world-renowned institutions, including Ivy League universities, who are proud graduates of the University of Buea. While I stand to be corrected, I believe the grading system at Buea, combined with the fact that it is internationally recognized for its pure English-language instruction, has helped many of these graduates compete successfully on the global stage.

This is not to diminish Dschang’s reputation. Rather, it is to challenge the notion that academic excellence belongs to one institution alone.

At the end of the day, universities should inspire excellence, not foster myths of superiority. Our educational journeys may differ, but intellectual talent, hard work, and global impact are not determined by the name of the institution on a transcript.

Is “Professor” a Rank or a Title

The word Professor is often used loosely in everyday conversation, but in academic settings it has a precise meaning. Understanding whether it is a rank, a title, and how it should be properly used helps maintain professionalism and respect within educational and formal environments.

Professor: Rank and Title

Strictly speaking, Professor is both a rank and a title, depending on the context:

As a rank, it refers to a specific level in the academic hierarchy. In most universities, academic ranks progress from Lecturer (or Assistant Lecturer) to Professor, which is typically the highest academic rank.
In the United States, the standard tenure ranks are: Assistant Professor (entry level), Associate Professor (mid level, often with tenure), and (Full) Professor (senior rank). Only those at the top rank are formally "Professors."
In the UK, Nigeria, and many Commonwealth countries, the structure often includes: Assistant Lecturer, Lecturer II, Lecturer I, Senior Lecturer, Reader/Associate Professor, and Professor (the highest rank, awarded after significant achievement). A Graduate Assistant is akin to an APPRENTICE in the lecturing profession hence I left the position out.

Not every university teacher holds the rank of Professor.. Using "Professor" as a rank signals seniority, research prominence, and often tenure or equivalent status

As a title, “Professor” is used to address someone who holds that rank. It signifies not just employment in a university, but a distinguished level of scholarship, research, and contribution to knowledge.

Because of this dual function, not every university teacher is automatically a professor. The title is earned through promotion and recognition, not simply by teaching in a higher institution.

Is “Prof” an Appropriate Title?

The abbreviation “Prof.” is widely accepted in informal and semi formal contexts, such as emails, academic correspondence, and event programmes. For example, writing “Prof. ” in an email header is generally acceptable. However, in formal documents, official letters, citations, and ceremonial introductions, it is more appropriate to use the full title:
“Professor Nwankwo” rather than “Prof. Nwankwo”

In essence Prof. is acceptable shorthand or abbreviation while Professor is preferred in formal usage

How To Address a Professor

The appropriate way to address a professor depends on the setting:
Formal address (spoken or written):
e.g., Professor Dozie. Written correspondence (formal):
Dear Professor Otti.

Using titles such as Dr. instead of Professor for someone who holds a professorial rank is technically correct but may be seen as less precise, since Professor reflects a higher academic distinction.

Conclusion

“Professor” is not merely a casual label; it is a prestigious academic rank and a formal title that should be used with care. While abbreviations like Prof. are convenient, the full title carries greater weight in formal communication. When in doubt, it is always safer and more respectful to address someone as Professor [Surname].

Although a Reader or Associate Professor is in the professorial cadre, calling the person a Professor is inappropriate. Same as refering to every university lecturer as PROFESSOR.

Clarity and courtesy in the use of academic titles not only reflect good manners but also uphold the standards of scholarly tradition.

Credit: Ik Ogbonna

Somewhere along the way, a few conservative cliques started pushing the idea that your PhD institution defines your worth. It doesn’t.

Yes, pedigree can open doors. Certain names carry influence. But a name is not your work and it’s definitely not your potential.

If your university is internationally recognized and credible, you already have a solid foundation. What matters far more is what you build on top of it: your ideas and your contributions.

Not going to Oxbridge or an Ivy League school doesn’t make you less of a researcher. Insight isn’t reserved for a select few institutions. It comes from persistence, curiosity, and the courage to think independently.

But here’s the crux: credibility isn’t just where you studied, it’s also where you publish. Choose your platforms carefully. Avoid predatory and vanity publishers that trade rigor for quick visibility and undermine real scholarship.

Focus on your output and quality outlets. Do meaningful work. Share it in the right spaces. Connect with the right people. Let your research speak with clarity and integrity.

In the long run, your impact will carry more weight than any label ever could.

Hard work without visibility will rarely be noticed. But here’s the truth we don’t say enough: visibility should be the product of excellence—not mediocrity.

Some time ago in Rwanda, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone. I lobbied—yes, persistently—for the opportunity to deliver guest lectures. Eventually, I was given the privilege of teaching Global Financial Integrity for the LLM in International Criminal Law at UNILAK.

On the very first day, I won’t lie—I was nervous. The calibre of students in that room? Top-tier. I told myself, “You cannot afford to mess this up.”

After the lecture, a student walked up to me and asked:
“Sir, where did you study?”

I replied: “At the University of Dschang in Cameroon.”

He paused, almost surprised:
“Really? With your fluency, eloquence, and mastery of the subject? I thought you studied in Europe.”

I smiled and said:
“No. Cameroon is not only about football and beer. We produce intellectuals too.”

That moment stayed with me.

I didn’t chase visibility—I focused on delivering excellence. And excellence spoke. That single opportunity opened doors: I was entrusted with three additional modules in the LLM in International Environment and Land Use Law, and that momentum later took me to lecture at Kigali Independent University, Gisenyi Campus for the LLM in Public International Law.

The lesson?

Don’t just work hard in silence hoping the world will notice. And don’t chase visibility without substance.

👉 Build competence.
👉 Deliver excellence.
👉 Let your work speak so loudly that visibility has no choice but to follow.

Visibility that comes without excellence fades quickly.
But excellence? It creates its own spotlight.

“Applause should be like water on a duck’s back—it touches you, but never soaks in.”

The world claps loudly, but not always honestly. Most people don’t celebrate you, they celebrate your value, your output, your moment.

The crown doesn’t call your name out of affection; it calls because of what you bring to the table. So when the King wants you, pause and ask: is it your essence or your usefulness?

Applause fades. Legacy is different.

Legacy isn’t built on who clapped the loudest, it’s built on what remains when the room goes quiet. It’s in the impact you left behind, and the people who remember you beyond your utility.

Let applause slide off you. Let purpose anchor you.

Because long after the clapping stops, only legacy speaks.

Honestly….....

During my undergraduate studies, we had a lecturer who openly told us in class that he didn’t like police officers, boldly calling them “bad people.” We were all stunned, wondering how that even related to the course. And to make matters more confusing, he would lecture extensively—just not on the subject he was actually assigned to teach. It was like attending a completely different class every time. Yet, nobody complained. We just kept quiet and adjusted… you know how it is.

Then came my Master’s program. A lecturer insulted a course mate referring to him as “Ambazonian” - he was seriously warned from what we were told. The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. It was uncomfortable and inappropriate, but again… silence. Everyone just looked on.

Experiences like these really make you think.

Yes, a PhD makes someone highly knowledgeable—a true expert in their field. But being an expert is not the same as being an effective, respectful educator. Teaching is a skill on its own. It requires empathy, professionalism, and the ability to create a safe space for learning.

There’s a shift happening globally, and I believe it will reach Cameroon more strongly some day: university lecturers should also have formal postgraduate training in teaching and learning. Because it’s not just about what you know—it’s about how you teach and how you treat people.

That’s why I’m excited and grateful that I have received a scholarship to pursue a postgraduate teaching qualification. This one na big step for me—and hopefully part of a bigger change.

We may laugh about these experiences now, but real improvement starts when we do things differently.

Step by step, we move.

A short reflection…🤔

Shortly after defending my PhD, I applied for a teaching position at a University Institute in Yaounde. I went through the interview process, and I was formally informed that I had been selected and recruited for the role. Throughout this process, the panel was fully aware that I had earned a PhD.

However, when my details were entered into their system, I was registered as “Mr” despite the salutation “Dr.” being listed. I immediately called to clarify what I believed was a simple administrative oversight. The response I received was, at best, lukewarm. Shortly after that conversation, I lost access to the portal altogether. Despite several attempts to follow up, my calls all ended in futility.

At that point, I made a conscious decision not to pursue it any further. Not out of ego, but out of self-respect despite no clear path ahead. Sometimes, the way you are treated early on tells you everything you need to know about what lies ahead.

What made this even more telling was that it mirrored a similar experience I once had with a university institute in Bafoussam. When patterns repeat themselves, they often carry important lessons.

For me, the takeaway is simple: know your worth, and don’t feel obligated to chase opportunities where your value is not recognised or respected. The right spaces will not require you to diminish who you are.

Keep moving forward.

A year ago, I crossed paths with an intriguing personality at a reputable academic institution. After a brief interaction, he asked for my CV with real enthusiasm — said the kind of person I was sent to represent spoke volumes. He even insisted, “Take my WhatsApp number and make sure you send me your CV. We need you here.”😂

I sent it.

He saw it… and never replied.

At the time, I got perplexed. Maybe even a little disappointing. But a few days ago, I stumbled on that same CV and just smiled.

Truth is — I wasn’t ready.

Not for that space. Not for that level. Not yet.

And that’s okay.

It wasn’t witches. It wasn’t village people. It wasn’t some unseen force working against me. I simply had my own limitations — gaps I needed to close, growth I needed to embrace.

We keep building. We keep improving. We keep becoming.

Because at the end of the day, the only person you need to be better than… is who you were yesterday.