This is the first day of October, and it is downright chilly here. (The dreaded 's' word is being used in the weather forecast, unbelievably.) We heat with wood, and so we do not fire up the woodstove until it is good and cold. Chilly is not good and cold. Chilly is something that you are for a time until the sun comes out. Chilly means that you fire up the little propane heater we have on the wall of the living room. Chilly means you wrap yourself up in an afghan, sipping hot coffee while you type on the computer. Chilly means that you wish you had a cat, because a cat would be curled up on your lap under the afghan, generating heat which would warm you. The cat would also be purring, which would soothe your soul.
My legs are bad today. Very bad. I can scarcely walk. Cold does seem to make things worse, so I am hopeful that things settle down before I have to go to work.
Today's a new day, one step farther away from the chaos of yesterday. Apparently being sensitive to the differences applies only to OTs and their patients. It does not apply to OT professors towards their students. My note was designed to not call attention to myself or my position in a classroom setting. She read it on the way up front, and she was angry. I knew that much. So did the rest of the class. The session in the office was not good. I am insubordinate, she does not like my demeanor, all the professors have noticed it, and she doubts my fitness to do fieldwork, anticipating that my superiors will have problems with me and my attitude. I was proud of my behavior in the office, anyway. I did not cry, although I very much wanted to. She could not provide any examples of my insubordinate behavior except one: A professor was having problems with the class, and I put a note on the test we were taking saying that her rules were different than Heather and Sarah's rules, and that she needed to let people know what she expected from them. "Who do you think you are? What gave you the right to speak to this teacher directly?" The hierarchy is that I need to bring all situations to the attention of the department heads who will address that teacher. I listened. It was not my goal to embarrass the teacher professionally. I did not think it was important enough to bring her superiors in to counsel her. I tried to explain this, but it was explained to me that I am a student and have no right to counsel my teachers. That is not my place. That is not my position.
After leaving, I had a good cry. But I know how it is now. There will be absolutely no more differences of opinions with my teachers. I will keep my mouth shut, and I will do the work. I will graduate.
But they will not mail the letter. That is my choice.