Twenty-Fifth

On Tuesday, my interpreting teacher completely ignored me when I had my hand up to ask a question.

It was rude.
It was mean.
It was unnecessary.
It was unprofessional.
It hit me a lot harder than it should have.

This woman takes away any drive I have to enter this as a profession. She is not a nice person. She is two faced. She doesn't answer questions. She sets us on strange tasks. Compared to other programs, I know there's stuff we haven't learned that we should have. She tests unfairly, and is awful about it, absolutely awful. She does not encourage you unless your one of her favorites. And if she doesn't like you, she ignores your raised hand.

I left harper and I cried. I cried like the 7th grader who was told she'd never pass the grade or get out of jr. high, and who would only go on to fail and not go on at all. I cried like the 11th grader who was brought out into the hall and yelled at. Told she was faking being sick, she was lying, and that a fit was going to be pitched in the Dean's office to get her out of this school. Then had to listen to the teacher sigh happily and say, 'well I feel better, but I bet you don't.' I cried like the 16 year old who was kicked out of high school because of something she couldn't control.

I don't cry much. I hated doing it.

This happening makes me doubt...absolutely everything. I don't know if it's Satan trying to remove me from where I'm supposed to be, or God letting me know that I shouldn't be where I am. I don't know if I should stick it out and shove it in this woman's face that I CAN do this, or go somewhere else and prove only to myself that I am capable and this is good. My teacher is the head of the department. I have no power here, no power with her, no power against her. It's been a long time since I've questioned my choices like this. I don't enjoy it.

I'm young. Maybe I'm not even supposed to know what I want to do with my life. Maybe it's too soon for me to actually be going after it.

I don't know. I don't feel like I know anything right now. This semester has been killing me. I need a break, I need a breather. Maybe I just need to cry.