LIKE A MANHOLE COVER

It's 1976.  I sit in a classroom with other students on the campus of Indiana University, Ft. Wayne.  It's evening.  I've driven to this class from Warsaw (45 min.) after a full day of teaching in elementary school.  I'm tired.  But I'm here because it's a state requirement:  I must begin work toward my Master's Degree within a five-year time span after starting to teach.  (It must be completed within ten years to retain my teaching certificate.)

Since I must take graduate courses anyway, why not work towards school administrative certification in the process of earning my Master's Degree?  School administrative courses could fulfill the requirement of "electives" for one thing.  But there's another reason I want that kind of certification.

For several years now, I've been frustrated.  I've enjoyed teaching both third and fourth grades in this small school system in northern Indiana.  Team-teaching with my colleagues has been a stimulating and real learning experience in so many ways.  Adapting to others' instructional methods while also sharing my own; observing our school principal's missteps which create tension among staff as a whole; then being elected President of our Teachers Association and head of our collective bargaining team -- this path, these leadership positions lead me to believe I can make a more effective school principal than our current one.  Icing on the cake comes when our School Superintendent officially names me "Interim Principal" for a day while our regular principal is out of town.  Superintendent Roehrer's confidence in my administrative skills blows me away.  I really can do this thing:  become a school principal.

So here I sit in a class of 20 students, a few women but mostly male ex-jocks [I make that assumption based on the fact that the path to a principalship at this time is through coaching].  I pull out my research paper that had been assigned for this class.  I do a quick review:  it is an argument, based on research, that states that women in school administration have performed outstandingly.

"Edith Sloan," the instructor calls.  I walk to the front of the room.  Clearly and distinctly, I read the two-page paper.  The most impressive part of it is a particular research study that shows the importance and success of women who serve as school principals.

As I finish, the instructor inquires if there are any questions.  A hand is raised near the front of the room.  "Yes?" I ask.

"I was just reading about a study the other day.  It showed just the opposite of what you've stated.  Women don't make good school administrators.  They're not nearly as successful as men.  What do you have to say about that?"

I repeat results from my study and, as my time is up, return to my seat.  The questioner is seated at the desk beside me.

"Where did you find the study you talked about?" I whisper.

"It doesn't exist," he responds.

"What?!"

He repeats himself, "It doesn't exist."

As the implication of what he has said sinks in, my heart drops into my stomach, my eyes grow wide with shock, and I growl, "How could you lie like that?"

"It served its purpose, didn't it?"  In other words, his "study" casts doubt on the legitimacy of my argument.  His response is just loud enough for me to hear.  He does not look at me.

Nothing less than a manhole cover could have taken the air out of my lungs like the act of this one person.  Every day of the week, every time I hear someone talk about Hillary Clinton as if she were a common thief and much worse, every occasion that Donald Trump (or his surrogates and/or other Republicans) opens his mouth with another obscenity or lie about Hillary, my teeth grind.  I'm reminded of that one evening in that classroom in Ft. Wayne, Indiana.

It isn't as if I have had even the half of what Hillary has had to endure.  No one should ever have to be exposed to that kind of abuse let alone daily and even hourly.  But I know what it looks like; I know how it feels.  It's called sexism (every bit as real as racism):  "prejudice or discrimination based on sex, especially discrimination against women."

Thanks to Michael Arnovitz of Portland, OR, for the idea of this blog title.