I need to rant, friends; despite knowing that in the scheme of things, my complaint might be trivial and my grievance trifling, I am annoyed and disturbed.
In the course of a work meeting last week, I was accused of being two things I know I am not: tied to lecture (instructor friends know how deep is this cut) and unwilling to “think outside the box.” It’s ironic that just last Thursday, a group of students thanked me as they left the class for “not standing and lecturing to us in a monotone voice.”
I know the accusation is false and was motivated by something not related to me, and yet it intrudes in my thoughts and nags at my spirit. It was a betrayal, kind of, for one, and for another, it is exactly the thing I strive not to be. I take pride in believing that I am an innovative teacher, one of the first to always take on new challenges, try new ideas, and seek the advice of mentors.
One other time (that I recall), I was judged unfairly by someone who came to a conclusion about me based simply on some comment I made, some honest assessment of my understanding of a concept. The person assumed I would remain as ignorant as I confessed to being—at the moment. I did not, and I raged at the injustice, to no avail.
I feel so frustrated and angry, and it occurred to me that I am angry because the whole situation is unjust, and I am (mostly) unable to defend myself or even counter the accusations. I wonder if that’s how it feels to be “other.”