Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Audience Profile: Mrs. G.

One thing you may not know about me is I have a sort of internal audience. I am sure we all have something like this...don't we? You know, people from your past or present (maybe even in the preexistence!) who can see what you are doing Right Now and have opinions about it.

One person that pops up in my audience sometimes is my sixth grade teacher, Mrs. G.

I was in one of those gifted classrooms. I thought it was because I was smart, but now I'm suspecting it was because my mom was PTA president. And I think Mrs. G. knew that and thus had low expectations for me. I remember once she was really surprised when my Future Problem Solving team did well; I think that's when I realized she thought I was subpar.

So in the SLC School District you can spend junior high at West High School if'n you're really smart. The top 60 students in the district are chosen for this accelerated track of study.

I applied for one of the spots, and Mrs. G. removed my application.

I mean, I didn't get very good grades then; I hadn't learned any discipline. So I get why she took the application out, but it rather smarted anyway.

So why am I thinking about this now? Because Mrs. G. can see me now and knows she was justified in having low expectations for me.

I am a very bad graduate student in a program I really don't understand how I ended up in, I don't have a job, I very rarely leave my apartment (I really should switch from an unlimited monthly Metrocard to a pay-per-ride), I have two black cats and wear a black sweat suit sometimes and think it's kind of fun to match my cats.

I really don't want this blog to be a Chronicle of Depression, but gee whiz.

Be a mensch, Lollygagger, be a mensch!


At April 07, 2006 5:12 PM, Anonymous kittyk said...

This is hysterical. Not that your depression is hysterical, but at least you lend it some personality. I, for one, do not harbor Mrs. G's same doubts. As far as I can tell, we all have sweat suit days/months/years? but you are too self-aware to settle into that mode forever. So tell Mrs. G. to go to hell & give yourself a break.


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