Watch Me
When I was an undergrad studying to become a teacher, I also held down a full-time job. Someone had to pay the bills, after all! Most of my professors didn’t even know that I worked. But one professor required a mandatory meeting during his office hours. Unfortunately, his office hours happened to be during my work hours. So, I asked him if I could meet him at a different time due to my work schedule.
Instead of answering me directly, he peered at me over his glasses and asked me, in a condescending tone:
What is your GPA?
Puzzled, I told him that I had a 4.0. Then he shook his head, scoffed, and said:
Not anymore. No one has ever worked full time and earned an A in my class before.
His attitude annoyed me. He didn’t know anything at all about me, my study habits, my work ethic, or my capabilities. He made assumptions about me that were false. Unlike many of the students who attended Texas State, I wasn’t a partier. I didn’t drink. Didn’t smoke. Didn’t have a life outside of work and school and the occasional date with my boyfriend (now husband) on the weekends.
Suddenly, I had something to prove. Like the narrator in “Oh, you will be sorry for that word!” by Edna St. Vincent Millay, who dared her condescending husband to look for her and whistle when she’s gone (ln 14), I looked at my professor, eyeball to eyeball, and said, respectfully:
Watch me.
Then I worked my tail off for that class. I still have the notebook I assembled as one of the requirements.
— I made history, by the way, and got the A!
