Neural Firings of the Moment
About a month and a half or so ago I had to go to an in-service type thing. Yea . . . yea . . . it connected to the Literacy Council I am running programs for so it was necessary. Aside from the strange looks and odd remarks about my being a PhD and all, things were okay. In terms of in-services it could have been a lot worse. I've had training meetings that were not remotely enjoyable. So this one wasn't painful at all.
None the less, in the course of the day one of the GED instructors from a relatively close area (not the sticks like I live, but I won't tell you the city . . . confidentiality reasons) popped up and said "Yes, yes. I like to let the students help with the areas they are good in . . . or with math since it's harder for me. You know, like my Chinese students I always ask them to do the math on the board, since all Chinese are good with math." Yup, you got it. Excuse me, did anyone catch that racial stereotype/slur?
******
As of late I've been gathering the necessary information for a potential background check. No I'm not telling you who and what it is for. I have my reasons. But, in the course of looking through forms, asking my parents if they had old mailing addresses for me, emailing three friends and one old roommate for the addresses, I came to the section on court cases. In short, I took one employer to court for a bounced paycheck, a Dr.'s office never filed my insurance and tried to take me to court for the full bill (the court ruled against me, as I wasn't in the state and I thought the matter had been cleared through about three hours of phone calls two months prior, and then I wrote a letter to the lawyer's firm. Yea, very quickly an insurance claim was made, and I was asked for the 25 bucks or so that wasn't covered. I sent the check in with a post-it attached. Matter done.), and then there was the infamous New Mexico incident. I hadn't thought about DC in the decade since moving back east; except for a brief two second excursion into the memory when Sonja joked about it on Facebook one day. Other than that . . . I let the undesirable person leave my memory banks. It's not like we hung out and bonded over cups of coffee. But, then the forms want to know. . .
So, in the bitter cold of the land of Dixie this week I'm rifling through my storage unit to find the papers from that nightmare. At the same time, I'm meandering through memories of fear and terror. DC was a MA student at the time, and he wrote an editorial to the campus newspaper of epically racist proportions. My white girl self took offense, and I--with most of the large State campus out west--took his comments to heart. The History department wrote a letter denouncing his claims as not representative, and my essay was one of a handful published. Not only was I published, but the paper showcased mine. Dude. Things went real bad after that, even more so since Sonja and I were in class with the delightful person. Things got uglier, and he made death threats to us. We went to court and got orders of protection. I was willing to not pay the light bill for the court fee, but Sonja used her future lawyer powers to convince the judge to not only reduce it but remove it. That part was good. Dredging up those memories . . . posh. I could've done worse.
****
A few months back at the stupid gas station/store I stopped in for one of those deliciously evil American drinks of the south . . . Sundrop. Diet Sundrop to be exact. At the counter some dude--whom I do not know and didn't bother to rememebr his name--asked me if I was my father's daughter. Since we have the same last name and similar facial structures I figured it was moot trying to denounce the kinship. Then he says, "Hey, ain't you a doctor now?"
Pulling out my cash to pay for my drink, and adding a pack of smokes to the bill because I could see this was going to go downhill," Yea."
Pulling back his sleeve, "Can you tell me what this is?"
I turned to glance his way, and the guy had some nasty assed gangrene looking scab/hole in his arm. Seriously, you should warn MDs before you display something that nasty! My response, while choking back the morning's coffee from hours before, "Um, I'm not that kind of a Doctor."
That . . . that is just wrong.
None the less, in the course of the day one of the GED instructors from a relatively close area (not the sticks like I live, but I won't tell you the city . . . confidentiality reasons) popped up and said "Yes, yes. I like to let the students help with the areas they are good in . . . or with math since it's harder for me. You know, like my Chinese students I always ask them to do the math on the board, since all Chinese are good with math." Yup, you got it. Excuse me, did anyone catch that racial stereotype/slur?
******
As of late I've been gathering the necessary information for a potential background check. No I'm not telling you who and what it is for. I have my reasons. But, in the course of looking through forms, asking my parents if they had old mailing addresses for me, emailing three friends and one old roommate for the addresses, I came to the section on court cases. In short, I took one employer to court for a bounced paycheck, a Dr.'s office never filed my insurance and tried to take me to court for the full bill (the court ruled against me, as I wasn't in the state and I thought the matter had been cleared through about three hours of phone calls two months prior, and then I wrote a letter to the lawyer's firm. Yea, very quickly an insurance claim was made, and I was asked for the 25 bucks or so that wasn't covered. I sent the check in with a post-it attached. Matter done.), and then there was the infamous New Mexico incident. I hadn't thought about DC in the decade since moving back east; except for a brief two second excursion into the memory when Sonja joked about it on Facebook one day. Other than that . . . I let the undesirable person leave my memory banks. It's not like we hung out and bonded over cups of coffee. But, then the forms want to know. . .
So, in the bitter cold of the land of Dixie this week I'm rifling through my storage unit to find the papers from that nightmare. At the same time, I'm meandering through memories of fear and terror. DC was a MA student at the time, and he wrote an editorial to the campus newspaper of epically racist proportions. My white girl self took offense, and I--with most of the large State campus out west--took his comments to heart. The History department wrote a letter denouncing his claims as not representative, and my essay was one of a handful published. Not only was I published, but the paper showcased mine. Dude. Things went real bad after that, even more so since Sonja and I were in class with the delightful person. Things got uglier, and he made death threats to us. We went to court and got orders of protection. I was willing to not pay the light bill for the court fee, but Sonja used her future lawyer powers to convince the judge to not only reduce it but remove it. That part was good. Dredging up those memories . . . posh. I could've done worse.
****
A few months back at the stupid gas station/store I stopped in for one of those deliciously evil American drinks of the south . . . Sundrop. Diet Sundrop to be exact. At the counter some dude--whom I do not know and didn't bother to rememebr his name--asked me if I was my father's daughter. Since we have the same last name and similar facial structures I figured it was moot trying to denounce the kinship. Then he says, "Hey, ain't you a doctor now?"
Pulling out my cash to pay for my drink, and adding a pack of smokes to the bill because I could see this was going to go downhill," Yea."
Pulling back his sleeve, "Can you tell me what this is?"
I turned to glance his way, and the guy had some nasty assed gangrene looking scab/hole in his arm. Seriously, you should warn MDs before you display something that nasty! My response, while choking back the morning's coffee from hours before, "Um, I'm not that kind of a Doctor."
That . . . that is just wrong.
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