One Friday I was honored to be asked to speak on a Graduate Student panel to help undergraduate honor student think about their futures. I took the time to try and catch up on schoolwork which has gone by the way side since I went back to work full-time.
As I was leaving I decided to thank the professor who had invited me and in general check-in since it had been about 6 months since I had seen him last. In the course of conversation I was told that I poisoned his class. I was blamed for the lack of A's. Seriously! He looked me dead in the face and called me poison. I did try and argue and back him off the whole idea but still it out there. I am poison.
I went home and told DH all about it. Here is the worse part, DH agreed! He agrees I poisoned the class. Words have currency and the choice of poison was like a dagger to my ego. I'm a nice person. I'm easy to get along with (usually). But now I just keep hearing that I'm poison.
After thinking it over for 24 hours and still being bother by it, I talked it out with DH some more. He still thinks I was poison in that class but he made an interesting point. Why the hell to do I care? That was over 6 months ago and my grade ain't changing so what is done is done. According to DH the reason I can't let it go has to do with the who said it rather than the content of what was said.
I think he is right, of course. I've been called much worse than poison so why does this one interaction bother me. I think it felt out of the blue and mean-spirited. The word was chosen to hurt me. Six month and the best word the PHD could find was poison! I thought he thought better of me. Instead he seems to hate me. Okay, I guess I'll file that in my trashcan and move on.
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