The unapologetic schoolmarm

There’s no reason to assume anyone said anything inappropriate as the party went on, except that it took place among human beings. (Image credit)

As many women do, I found myself recently in one of those cocktail party conversations that I didn’t realize until later that I could have ended much sooner.

I was working to maintain a comfortable distance from my conversation partner, who had apparently been drinking heavily. Unconsciously, he closed the distance every time until he had backed me directly into a tree.

As to topics, they covered familiar ground — even the part where he said something about doing drugs and [vulgar term for sexual activity] [offensive term for sex workers].

I made a mild joke about limiting debauchery to a short time period, and I got, “Forty-eight hours? What are you, a schoolmarm?”

He quickly moved on with the conversation, and I did what I’ve been doing since I was a child in order to fit in: Play along. Drugs, sex, excess, illegal activity, bad words — this is what the cool kids are all about. Smirk and nod.

But in this conversation, I realized that I don’t have to do that anymore. I don’t have to play along. And, while potentially dangerous, that realization is also liberating.

I did play along at that party, even though this guy was definitely not a cool kid. There are good reasons to play along that don’t have anything to do with fitting in and everything to do with personal safety. But internally, I experienced a fundamental shift.

While this guy went on and on, a realization hit me. I said to myself, “As a matter of fact, yes — I spent twenty years working in education. I am a schoolmarm.”

I am a schoolmarm! I own it. What does it mean? To me, it doesn’t mean I like to police other people’s behavior. It means that I have had the privilege of guiding kids to make choices about their behavior that they can feel good about. And then, I teach them to have compassion for themselves and others when they fall short of their ideals. This is essential for them to be able to try again and not give up on themselves or each other.

Ironically, I wasn’t the intolerant one here. This guy’s name-calling was dismissive and nasty — which drew my attention back to the dismissive, nasty, and frankly dehumanizing language he had used to refer to women engaged in sex work.

I didn’t call it out — but I wish I had. I wish I had ended the conversation right then. I didn’t have to humor him. It was okay if I seemed like a prude. He had essentially already called me one.

What an unpleasant conversation with such an unhappy, insecure person. It was not my responsibility to appease him or educate him. It was okay for me to just get away from him. Eventually, I did. But I hate how long I waited. I hate how nice I felt like I had to be, even while he was not being nice at all.

I see myself as assertive. I see myself as an advocate for my own needs and those of others. Now, I see new room for growth in this area, and telling this story is part of that.

I don’t need to apologize for being a schoolmarm. I do wish I could apologize for all the times I’ve laughed at cruel jokes so as to not become a target myself, broke rules and norms in order to be seen as cool by my peers, mocked other people to be part of the in crowd, and otherwise violated my own values in the name of keeping myself or someone else comfortable. I see it in a new light. I didn’t realize the degree to which I was still doing it.

Just as I would instruct my former students to do, I hereby summon the self-compassion to forgive myself for not behaving in the way I wish I had behaved and not saying what I wish I had said. It’s okay. This is what growth looks like.

For better or worse, there will be plenty of opportunities to develop better skills in this area in the future. I’m up for the challenge.