There's really no word for it that I could find anywhere, so I'll have to make it up. It's an odd little neurosis of mine. I'm incredibly attracted to English/literature teachers, bookworms, etc.
I went to a high school in a small farming community in rural Connecticut. Instead of having the basic singular English or literature classes I had been used to back in my home state of Indiana, there were several options to choose from. Being the bibliophile I was, I took them all. My favorite was - and always has been - British Literature.
The instructor, Mr. Roche, was soft-spoken, long-haired and incredibly intelligent (another turn-on). I would listen with rapt attention to his descriptions of Shakespearean lore, all the time fantasizing about my infatuation with him. He was also perpetually stoned, and could never remember anyone's name. Except mine, which my friends found hysterical.
The classroom wall next to his cluttered desk was lined with rows of books. I'd find any excuse to stay after class to talk to him about some quickly-fashioned excuse to borrow one of his books, or to ask for an in-depth explanation of one.
I had several strategies to attract his attention, one of which was to sit on the edge of his desk while he offered me his explanations on whatever I had come up with to discuss that particular day. I was relentless in my choices of outfits and seductive poses for these little meetings: My mini-skirts or tights jeans, legs crossed and placed just so.
Interestingly enough, he was definitely not crush material in the commonly accepted sense among hormonal teenagers. He looked rather like a cross between Michael Bolton and a certain monotonal comedian I can't remember the name of. He sort of spoke that way, too. But he read us poetry and spoke of the intricacies of the relationships between the Shelley's and Byron. He told us about mysticism and alternative thought.
It's likely these digressions were a direct result of all the pot he was smoking at the time (it was commonly known - and more than that, he was arrested in Vermont not long after my graduation with a trunkful of cocaine and imprisoned for quite some time).