Yesterday, one of the veterinary professors walked into our office to talk to me about building a remediation exam for one of his students. Students have to “remediate” exams when they fail courses during the school year. What that means is that they’re responsible for independently reviewing all the information covered in the semester and then they come to our campus to take their exams over the summer.
Which is where I come in – as the Exam Services Specialist.
As I’ve mentioned before, I “build” the students’ exams. Sometimes faculty will ask us to pull up their old questions stored in our online, secure software program. Or, when they write new ones, I proofread and edit them and ensure they follow specific question-writing guidelines.
This faculty member walked in to ask for a draft of his old questions from the “question bank” online. I made a little post-it note to remind myself to send this to him later in the day. Then, he decided to sit down and chat a little bit.
I’ve never worked with this professor before so I think it was his way of getting to know the new girl. We spent no more than 5 minutes talking, but by the end of the conversation, he knew that I had my Masters and I was (am?) a special education teacher.
I’ve found that – as time goes on in this teeny-tiny town in my new, vet-school job – I feel an urgent desire to tell people that I am 1) well-educated and 2) just “doing this vet school job for now,” but it’s not my REAL job.
Am I crazy? Arrogant?
I’m just surrounded by professionals and I’m constantly reminded that I’ve put a hold on my career while all these people are doing research and advancing their own.
I know that their opinions of me shouldn’t matter. I know that I’m an accomplished person. And I don’t need to defend my actions to anyone.
I don’t know why I feel the need to let everyone know that I was (am!) a teacher. That I went to graduate school too. That I’m really effing smart. I might as well just wear a sign around my neck with my resume attached to it. So I don’t have to eagerly wait until someone asks me where I’m from, why I’m here, and what I did back in California.
I feel slightly embarrassed that I feel the need to prove myself.
But I have this weird notion that people perceive me as the domestic housewife who takes care of her husband and the house. (Which, don’t get me wrong, I am happy to take on to some degree. I’ve got pretty great domestic skills. My dish-washing skills are on POINT*. But it’s not the only thing that I do. And I just want people to know.
*Please sense the sarcasm in my writing.
Questions of the Day:
- If YOU were to wear a sign around your neck so people knew something about you, what would you want it to say?
- How do you suggest I get over this crazy complex I have?