Bubba Backwood's new BFF

Believe it or not, if you catch me at (ahem) certain times of the month---I'm not the friendliest person. In fact, most days, I'm probably not the friendliest person you've ever met. However I most certainly will never be the rudest.

While I admit (insert long sigh here) that I was not a debutant, nor did I go to charm school, I do hold strong to a belief that certain social graces and forms of tact are timeless and never to be forgotten. I'll always use ma'am when speaking to someone older and unfamiliar, I'll use 'please' and 'thank you' almost every time regardless of with whom, and I promise not to talk about your mama---in front of you.

This goes over to my work life as well, except at work, I have to heighten the positivity factor.
I work in education, and mostly with non traditional age students, which means if I don't keep on the super professional game, then I'm a sitting duck to hear how young and/or inexperienced I am.

For some reason, adults returning to school feel insecure about coming back to continue or start their education. No clue why.
Maybe it's insecurity at having not done it before (you'd be not so surprised to hear how many ex husbands are the cause of women not fulfilling their potential). Maybe they want to give a warning shot to the fact that they may not do so hot in Physics after being out of school 25+ years.
Whatever it is.....it is what it is and I just take it and remain encouraging.


Yesterday, a student basically was told something she didn't want to hear.

Think of taking a piece of candy away from a three year old before dinner and telling him he'll have to wait until after he eats his carrots to get his Hershey bar.
Now think of the 3 year olds reaction.

His would be more mature. I promise you.

I think I counted 3 times in different emails that she made note of her age. And then it hit me:
If you have to tell someone how old you are in order to get respect---you didn't earn it in the first place.
It's like those gross men who call themselves a 'grown ass man'. Again, if ya gotta tell me...then you're not. I guess just having gray hair is enough to indicate wisdom???
Dang.
And then....wait for it.....I was called a racist.
Yup.
Me.....ME! A racist. I have no words.

Although, let me just say that if someone wants to tell you "how many" white or black friends they 'have' or "how long they've had them", or how many people of a different race or culture that they work with......then whether or not they know it, they are racist.

Have you ever noticed how people who make these statements never seem to have more than a few these friends? Certainly not more than can be counted one one hand.
Because having 2 white friends makes you capable of juding my intellect?!?-- Should I counter that with my 7 black, 3 gay and 2 Korean acquaintances??? I mean, cause if we're gonna count---let's go all out. I'm sure the Indian guy who works at the Chevron would say he likes me better than you.

You know, I hear about people saying because they are black or white, then someone has put prejudice unfairly on them. Sometimes I can understand its merit and others not. But its never happened to me.

So in case you're wondering, I didn't respond. For one, I knew it would do nothing but make the situation worse. Two, if the student is able to just throw out such a heavy, heavy word at will, then who knows what she would be capable of doing with my response. I was being baited and knew it.
Also because I had nothing nice to say and in the words of my Nana, "If you can't say anything nice, at least have the decency to be vague".

I couldn't even vaguely tell this woman to go screw herself.

So now, after a year of doing nothing but helping her....after working late and making additional phone calls for ALL students----I'm lumped in with Bubba Backwoods and made to be a part of the KKK and skinhead groups.
All because my skin color is more white than brown, red or yellow. I'm now considered to be like one of those losers that meet to skin squirrels and talk about how hot their girlfriends are for getting the rebel flat tattooed above their Wal-Mart lace bra!?!?
Nice. Real nice.

Actually, I wasn't referred to as even white. I was referred to as Anglo-Saxon. However....I'm not Anglo-Saxon. I have Indian, Greek, and a mesh pot of other cultures runnin through this gal that aren't close to Western European or German (though those are thrown in too). I'm sure Mrs. Wisdom wouldn't care to know that. So just call me Angan for short.....