I had been attending the University off and on for years. Due to the economic downturn, I decided I should just startover so I enrolled in an undergrad class. Although I had to withdraw from school on one occasion many years ago due to the severe panic, I have never sought ADA accomodation or asked for any special considerations from my professors.
As a research school, undergrad classes are often taught by grad students instead of the professor, something I feel strongly against. Never-the-less, I walked into my class and sat somewhat in the center of the classroom. My class was not huge, it probably had 50 students in it. I can't even recall the course.
The day came when our first quiz was given. It had ten questions. The only question I knew I missed was the final question which stated, "softly play Come, Come Ye Saints on your desktop." My answer to that question was, "I do not know how to play the piano," and expected it to be marked wrong. Then I placed my paper on the stack in the corner of the teacher's desk. After I returned to my seat, I recognized that other students were putting their papers in a different stack so I hurried to the desk and began looking for my quiz in the stack I had placed it.
It was then that the teacher verbally attacked and scolded me for going through his notes prepared for the day and I needed to get away. I tried to explain what I was looking for, but he didn't want to hear it, he just told me to get away from the stack and return to my seat. GRRRR!!
The next day when the quizes were returned to us with grades, I did not receive mine. I asked the teacher about it and his reponse was that if I turned one in, it was graded. I asked him to check his book, which he did after puffing out air as though this was the final effort he could expend on my part. I had a zero grade.
I reminded him of how I had placed it in the wrong pile and he had shooed me off, but he stated he did not find anyone's missing quiz in his papers. I told him I could very quickly give him the ten answers if he would just ask me the questions right now. He laughed at that and stated we were about to go over the quiz as a class and I should take my seat. Before doing so, I told the teacher that he would remember if he saw my quiz because I do not know how to play the piano, to which he simply scowled at me. I returned to my seat in the center of the classroom, which was not as large as it previously was for the number of students. The walls seemed a bit closer today.
The instructor went throught each question and I kept track of the ones I answered correctly. As expected, I answered them all correctly. The teacher explained that he kept a close eye on the class and if he saw you tapping out or fingering the song--then you received extra credit on the final question. Then he glared at me. The front wall of the classroom was now only feet away from me and the teacher stood directly in front of my desk. His body became scewed from the neck down looking as though he suffered from some form of dwarfism while his head grew larger and larger, with his eyes ultimately larger than any portion of his face. And the glare he threw at me was no longer just a glare, but a threat. Then, he smacked his answer key down on my desk forcing me to jump up from my seat.
I immediately grabbed the key and discovered that the last question was answered, "I do not know how to play the piano." The classroom shrank instantaneously. I stood there shaking and contemplating whether to leave the classroom or make a challenge to this teacher. I challenged and claimed that this was my quiz and not his answer key. His reaction was to have the class vote on whether his "key" should be counted as my quiz but he failed to explain the answer to the final question. The students sent forth small papers with their votes and input. So many of them were negative and called me a baby for arguing this. One note stated "this is college and she needs to move beyond her highschool rants." That was when I rushed out of the cardboard shoe box that the classroom had become.
The next time class met, the entire situation was reviewed again. I was filled with rage, fear, and pain as I sat in my desk and the entire class discussed my behaviors. Things that were said were embarrassing and hurtful. Once again, the classroom walls began to move in on me and I bolted from the room. The teacher apparently instructed the class to carry on and he came into the hall to catch up with me. He was not friendly. As he chastised me for assuming that he would just give me a grade without evidence of effort, he suddenly noticed the shirt I wore beneath my jacket. He stalled for a moment. Then in a small voice, he asked if I really had a master's degree in public management or if the shirt was meant as a joke. I removed my jacket and showed the list of my fellow graduates listed on the back of my shirt. When I turned back to face him, the teacher stood silent.
"Why are you arguing so much about this quiz when you don't even need this undergrad class?" he asked. I told him about my desire to change careers and that I wanted to start anew in my education. I did not view my behavior as arguing, rather as defending my right to learn and by withholding my quiz I was not able to validate my understanding of his class. His reaction was, "I will not be manipulated by ANY of the students in my classroom. Before the walls of the hallway collapsed, I ran back into the classroom and in large bold script that took up the entire whiteboard, I wrote AGOROPHOBIC/PANIC DISORDER .
I fled from the scene crying. No sobbing, which woke me up. It had all been a dream. But one of those dreams that was so real that I continued to sob for several minutes before accepting that I was at home, in my own room, beneath the comfort of my heavy blankets. No one could reach me, hurt me, offend me or judge me here. This was my safe zone.
Vivid dreams have become frequent and I can only connect them with some of my deepest fears regarding my children, in addition to the judgemental environment our society has become. I haven't posted here for a long time because I fear the judgements that might be thrown back should people really know what passes through my mind. I tend to stand for the underdog when I see unjust judgement taking place, but standing up for myself is sometimes scary.
I think the biggest reason for my nerves being so fragile is that in one week, I will attempt to use the new commuter train into Salt Lake City. I stopped using the bus due to the additional stress it caused me on a daily basis. Driving myself allows me to be in control of my destination and to stop at restrooms if necessary. But the expense of gasoline is crushing. I must give myself credit for the past month as I traveled to see grandchildren in two different states. I even flew on an airplane!! But hidden behind the anxious smile is the nemesis. Always and consistently present, even in my dreams.
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