Grades are due this week, so teachers are getting a little bouncy, at least when the students aren’t looking. “Is he sexually harrassing you?” demanded one teacher, as another teacher walked in. I thought I had picked a good hiding place next to the xerox machine to spread out my paperwork, but I wasn’t hidden at all. And I still haven’t finished the sexual harassment inservice. They tell me I won’t be able to do it properly until I get the training.
Then a question from a male Hispanic co-worker:
“When Hillary is president is she going to get even with all the men?”
When Hillary is president? We’ll see if she still has the old Comeback Kid mojo. Right now she’s not doing too good in the polls.
“Get even”? For what?
The light bulb went on. Guilt. We know only too well that the guys we fall in love with do not deserve our devotion. But then it finally dawned on me. They know it too. And they feel guilty as hell about it. Irrationally, bizarrely guilty. That’s why they do not want to hear about someone strong enough to keep overcoming life’s unfair curve balls. They want to hear about hope and change and belief and magic. And they want to try to forget about that girl back in the third grade when ….