It tends to be the teacher who minds her own business the most, that seems to also attract the most negative attention from the most insecure ones, or so it seems the case today. As I write this blog I am reminded of the searing, nuclear disruption to my morphic field as she walked in, projecting all of her pent-up frustration about her family life, her weight, her fears, her feelings of needing intimacy and feeling rather unattractive, and decided to contrast that against my cool, relatively composed stoic teacher "it's Monday, let's start fresh" mode, in preparation for the toughest, most ridiculous class of my day: the 7th grade hell raisers. After all, they had to be hell raisers because Heaven hadn't appeared to have smiled on them in the least. Anywho...
I had finally settled the class enough to speak, issuing the game plan for the day's adventure. Suddenly, a large whoosh of calamity rushed in right before I got a chance to speak. Boys were sent out, and a teacher whose name will have to just roll in my mind aimlessly and questioningly, swung her body into my room and proclaimed, "what are these boys doing outside your room?" Her fierce interruption was enough to wonder if the four horsemen of the Apocalypse would follow. I returned with "um, I needed to start class without their interruption. Is there an issue?" She proceeded to tell me how they were interrupting her class (she doesn't have one) and were downstairs making faces in a window (actually, the kids told me what they did themselves). I thanked and apologized to her, not that I could understand why she was in my room on the third floor at all, and she raises her voice, asking, "What are you going to do about them?" Now far be it from me to do this to another professional, so I said in my best tone, " I will handle the problem as soon as I begin class. Thank you for telling me." She yells this time. "because they can't be running around the halls!" "Excuse me, I'm trying to start class!" I answer, this time visibly flustered. "So am I!" She yells, and storms out as she pushed the students back in.
By this time, I realized I'd had quite enough, and didn't need to have that issue bother my hour any further, and yet I couldn't stop the training from rolling because it would have otherwise jumped its tracks. I followed her out, and I added to my frustration, loudly stating, " I have never been so disrespected by another professional and to top it off, in front of my KIDS??" Much to my surprise, this teacher of this supposed 25 years of stature, education, superiority and history in teaching answers me with "so what?" "SO WHAT???" At this point I was just flabbergasted by her response. I got called dumb and insignificant, then tried to say something about being equals, to which I reply, "EQUALS?? OH NO LADY, WE ARE NOT EQUALS. I would NEVER have done that to you." At which point, I stormed back into the room.
Apparently, the Universe sometimes gives us these opportunities to state forcefully to the world who we are and how we are to be treated. When I returned to my classroom, the one thing I felt sure and awesomely solid about, was the fact that I would always, from that point on, hold a solid, loving boundary with those who choose to indulge themselves in the luxury of a whirlwind of projective despair. Alas, though I triumphed in the boundaries department, I epically failed in another, which was the securement of rising above that which tries to oppose us, show us jealousy, anger, or any uncontrolled emotion or act. My fortress was shattered. The lesson that now haunts me is to be the dependable stoic leader, when the chips are down, and to reinforce, at the first sign of attack.
As for that sad teacher? I have a book recommendation for her. It's called Why People Don't Heal, and How they Can, by Caroline Myss. Oh, and I'd also suggest a cup of tea, if this could help to assuage savage nerve attacks toward said victimized, successful goddesses. Namaste.
