what's worse than being insulted

I woke up at about a quarter to 9. I washed my face thinking that "it's just another great day". Yasamin and I had breakfast, got dressed and got into the car. I drove her to the kindergarten and I headed ILI thinking "it's just another great day". I parked the car, ran to ILI because I didn’t want to be late. I wasn’t late. I was fifteen minutes early. And I was thinking "what a great day!" Colleagues talked and laughed, I talked and laughed thinking "indeed it’s a great day". I took my books and Cd and all the stuff heading the class with a smile. I opened the door, said hello to my students, they said hello, too. I sat at my desk and…

There was a chair right in the middle of the class and right in front of me. I had a glance at it. There were some words written on it. It read……………

It was a about me!! About me?!! I took my eyes off of it, knowing that my students were observing me. I was embarrassed and insulted. I was sure they read it and I was sure they saw me reading it. But I pretended I didn’t see it, that I wasn’t insulted at all. I pretended that I didn’t see that chair. And as I was pretending I was asking my self "Have I ever done or said anything like that to my teachers?" and the answer was no. I've never even dared to talk about my teachers in that way.

 I did what I normally do; I taught, I joked around with them, we laughed. But I kept asking myself "what's worse than being insulted?".

I know I am a good actress. That damn chair was in front me for an hour and half and I was burning inside. But I didn’t let them know how I was feeling and that I was acting. And I thanked God for this gift.

The class was over. They were gone. I closed the door. We were alone, me and the damn chair. I took out my correction pen and I did what I had to do asking myself " to whom can I talk about this? Hubby?...Never. A friend?... So embarrassing. Mom?... I can't say those words to mom…so no one is left. It's only God that I can turn to."

I was done. I opened the door. All the students were gone. Most of the colleagues were gone, too. I got out, walked to my car with a frown. I couldn’t breath, I was choking, and my hands were shaking. I got into the car, put on my sunglasses, turned on the Cd player, drove home, and I looked at the sky, looked at Him and I cried. The tears rolled down my face uncontrollably. I was insulted and I couldn’t say a word. I had to keep quiet and laugh and teach!

I arrived home. I sat in the car for a while, took off my sunglasses, looked at me in the mirror. My cheeks were blushed, lips were dry and eyes were wet. And I asked my self "is it a great day? Is it how they look at me? Is it how they think of me? Would they do the same if I were a man? Did I get that because I am a woman?"

What happened today didn't make me hate teaching. No, I don’t hate teaching. I don’t hate teaching boys. I don’t hate ILI. I don’t hate my students. I don’t even hate the one or the ones who did this. But I hate that chair. I hate it so badly. I want it to be destroyed.

Every night, I bore hubby with what happens at ILI each day; what colleagues say, what students do, what I do. He watches TV and I keep talking and talking asking myself "is he listening to me?". Well, I don’t care; I need to talk, to take every thing out of me, to empty me, so that I can start another great day with no words unsaid from the day past. But tonight, things will be different. I will be quiet. I will have nothing to say. He will watch TV and he won't get bored with my talks. And if he asks "how was you day?", I will say" it was a great day!"

It’s a quarter to 2 pm. I have to go to ILI and sit in front of that chair at 2:3o, again. Oh, Lord, how I hate that damn chair!

Being badly insulted,

Narcis