Monday, February 20, 2012

Mistaken Identity

Remember my uptight bitch teacher who I wanted to choke? The female one? Yeah, she's a he. And not just any he. I had pictured a forty-something, overweight, frizzy haired white woman and I got....well, um I got not that. 

Anyone watch Reno 911? Remember the episode where Deputy Williams pretends to have joined the Nation of Islam and Jones goes along with it? He has on the bow tie and glasses? 

This?????

Take away the hair and jacket and replace it with a vest and you have my instructor. But not funny. At all. 

I arrived to campus early to get an official University of Fictitious Bird nameplate, I soon discovered that the instructor was a man. A woman in the admin building, after telling me how fucking ridiculous it was that he made a fucking name tag a fucking requirement (exact verbiage), she said "I haven't heard good things about him. Good luck." I obviously thought she misspoke, so I said "Yeah, she isn't rubbing me the right way." She gave me a funny look and replied "No, she's a he." All I could say was "fuck". I had called him a ma'am in my earlier email. Super. I haven't even got to class and I already have pissed the man off. I think that's a record for me.

I dart across the parking lot to class and find almost there, laptops out and/or texting on their cell phones. I quietly place my things at my seat, take out the 40+ pages of required documents, and set up my shamrock green (yeah, I don't know why either) name plate. Everyone stops and stares at me. Typhoid Maria speaks first and asks me what I'm doing. She is followed by Fat Alberto who says "Did you forget your computers or something?". Even Juarez Teenager Female seems worried and asks why I have so many "paplers". I reply to all of them "Did you not read all the instructors posts? We had to bring all of these papers and have our name tag for credit. And we can't have our computers out. Or our phones." More blank stares. "Seriously, no one read it but me?" Then out of the corner, an It's Pat looking thing speaks up and says "I read it but I have it all on my phone so I wouldn't have to print it." 

Me: And you are?
It's Pat: I'm *name omitted. I'm in a band.
Me: Is this a band class? How is that relevant?
It's Pat: Um, I'm not following.
Me: Obviously.

I once again explain to everyone what was required for the first night and they all start saying things like "Oh it's cuz I readed it but didn't know we had to", "I don't like to waste energies on printing, it's not green" and Typhoid Maria's gem "Well, if they want us to print things and use computers they need to tell us that ahead of time." I'm not even going to touch that one. Nor did I explain that he was a she. I wasn't going to be by myself on that one.

In walks in the instructor. Big, black, bespectacled, wearing a vest and bow tie and with a look that says "I am judging all of you". That's supposed to be my look. Not cool bro. And I don't mean bro as in black man. Just a generalized bro. Okay, partly because he's black. Three minutes before six in the PM, he starts class. I was thinking to myself "Well, if you aren't 15 minutes earlier, you're late" when he actually says "If you aren't 15 minutes early, you're late." It all clicked. He was military. He had to be. I just knew it.

He dove into the syllabus right away. After noticing that I was the only one following along on my hard copy, he demanded to know where everyones syllabus was. Everyone offered their own pathetic excuses and he then handed out copies of the syllabus. "Apparently Ms. Golden is the only one who came prepared so she gets to feel superior to the rest of you. Although my guess is she already does." WTF bro? Where did that come from?! Because I'm white? Because I had the nerve to email you and call you out on not having our class forum set up? Because I called you ma'am? What. The. Fuck.

As much as I would love to give a word-by-word account of what happened, I couldn't have my computer out, I couldn't take notes, and I couldn't write everything down after class as I was so full of rage I would have broken my computer. You're going to get bits and pieces.

Somewhere between his opening statement about responsibility and how he's making us better, he referenced his $64 bow tie. I still cannot understand the context or the relevance but he broke his professional character and said "Girl, my bow ties cost 64 dollas. Gotta holla fo that dolla." 

There was a moment during the dramatic reading of the syllabus where we discussed late assignments. He made us repeat OUT LOUD like we were singing a Jody, that he does not accept late assignments. This occurred several times as he kept saying "I can't hear you!" I then pointed out that if he isn't going to accept late assignments, he should allow people to post them to the student website. 

Him: As I clearly stated in the syllabus that we are reviewing, the assignment is not due until tomorrow.
ME: Well, I clearly completed it earlier than that and to ensure it isn't late would like to post it now. Well, not now. I can't use my computer now. Wouldn't want to interfere with your purpose.
Him: (Chuckles) Perhaps you should have more attention to detail. I will ALLOW you to post your assignment when I am confident you understand it. 
ME: For real? That's your answer? 
Him: We shall address the assignment in detail shortly. 
ME: Holla.

He started going over our methods of communication and then I saw it. His personal email address. It stated his rank and job @gmail.com. And since he had stated that he did not need to explain his credentials to the class, I was primed to pounce. You know why? Because I pay more to attend this shitty school than he gets paid to teach it. Because I have a right to know what makes this arrogant asshole qualified to teach me about criminal justice. And also because he had just criticized my attention to detail. So...my hand went up.

Him: Yes?
ME: Are you a Command Master Sergeant?
Him: What would make you think that?
ME: Besides the jodys and your lack of hair?
Him: Yes, besides that.
ME: Well, you have a MSL. Master of Science in Leadership right?
Him: That's correct.
ME: Well, typically it's something Senior NCOs get to get promoted. And your email says CSM/job@gmail.com. Oh, and you said HUA. I'm pretty sure of it.
Him: So your husband is in the Army? You're a dependent?

Really you sexist dick????!?!?!?!??!

ME: Well, my husband is a veteran, as am I. But thank you for the assumption. 
BTA (Big Time Army as he will now be called): You were in MY Army?
ME: Oh that's hilarious. God no. We were in the Air Force. 
BTA: Now that's hilarious. We gon be beefin' huh? Damn Air Fouce up in this mug! Betchu was a cop huh?
ME: I'm not sure about "da beefin'" but yes, we were both Security Forces. 

Now what came next is not important. What is important is how quickly he switched from professional to Hoorah, to just ghetto in such a short amount of time. I don't mind trading witty quips with an instructor. I enjoy it actually. But to converse with someone who is so clearly in an identity crisis, well, I was scared. I was waiting for him to ask if Wayne Brady had to slap a bitch.

All of his shit aside, he put Juarez Teenager Female in my group. And her teammate who hasn't been given a name yet because he's stupid, but not stupid enough that it has bothered me. I have literally spent the past two days re-writing our team charter because Big Time Army had "feedback". By feedback, I mean corrections to perfection. He even stated in the feedback that the charter was "perfection" but that he wanted us to make it "more perfect". I hate him. I mean that. Hate. Him.

There was so much awesome that happened, I literally overloaded my brain with mental notes for this blog. I think it crashed. He can be a dick and make assignments harder than they should be. He can hate on the Air Force and tell me my law enforcement experience is not relevant to criminal justice even though he's a medic. He can be ghetto bi-polar all he wants, but don't fuck with my blog. I will try to record the class or something next week so that I can provide a detailed account. 

Until then, I am signing off to go piss off some religious nut jobs. If we aren't friends on FB, just know I know some serious whack jobs who apparently have NOT read my blog and are unaware that I enjoy the crucifixion of people.

3 comments:

Shannon said...

What an ass. I think you would be great at undercover CIA junk. Seriously. Record that class, girl. I can't wait to hear...what a wack-a-doodle.

L. said...

The part that got me was the Wayne Brady impression that never happened...give it time--it'll come out before the end of the semester. :D

Tiffany said...

L. one can only hope that it does. There was a moment there where I am 93% sure he spit off some Lil' Wayne lyrics, but no one really knows what Lil' Wayne is saying so I just can't be sure. He definetly quoted a Miranda Lambert song when he started talking about Chris Brown. Yes, we talked about Chris Brown. He said "I have some gunpowder and lead for his ass right here" and held up his fist. When I gave him this look that I meant to say "How the fuck is that relevant?", he said "What? A black man can't listen to country?"

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