Chapter 1: A Disheartening Start

I have encountered my fair share of unkind educators, and I had hoped that college would offer a reprieve. Sadly, unkindness seems to be a pervasive issue.

By the time I took Mr. M's astronomy class, I was already well-acquainted with the college environment. This course wasn't part of my major but was necessary for fulfilling a core science requirement. As a sophomore, I had yet to face the emotional toll of an exam, but that was soon to change.

The first thing Mr. M did was dismiss astrology as nonsense, which left me with a sour impression. I have a fondness for astrology, and it’s worth noting that it and astronomy were once closely intertwined. Later in my studies, I would encounter an exceptional professor who appreciated this connection.

Within the first week, I inquired whether a particular statement he made would appear on our first test. I had asked similar questions to other professors without any issues, and many classmates had done the same.

You would have thought I was asking for confidential test answers or his social security number.

After some grumbling, he assured me that everything would be included in the tests. He was truthful; the exams were daunting. Even with extended time, I struggled to complete them, as they covered every detail.

From that moment on, it seemed I was marked as a target in his eyes. I was one of the few women in a class predominantly filled with men. Adding to the challenge, I had accommodations from my university, which had never been a problem with my previous professors. Mr. M, unaware of my specific needs, made assumptions about my situation.

He perceived my invisible disabilities as mere laziness.

Mr. M kept a constant watch on me during lectures, making me feel as if I were under a microscope. I understood that most students weren't pursuing astronomy as a major, and I might have accepted his treatment if this had been a specialized course. However, that was not the case.

He frequently called on me to tackle challenging questions. If it wasn’t quiz or exam time, I likely wouldn't have the answers ready. This scrutiny seemed targeted, as he hardly did the same with other students.

If I struggled to focus during his lectures, he would blurt out answers to upcoming tests without offering a repeat. I only spoke with one other student in class, and Mr. M's subtle bullying often went unnoticed.

Outside of class, Mr. M would greet me, regardless of whether I had already seen him that day. His smile and feigned friendliness felt patronizing, reminiscent of the mean kids in middle school who pretended to be nice while actually looking to humiliate.

He made my requests to take quizzes in the testing center seem unreasonable. I complied, although I shouldn’t have. If missing part of class was an issue, he could have easily allowed me to take them earlier.

The quizzes were small but challenging, rarely focusing on the main topics from our readings or notes. Often, he would ask us to submit quiz questions for a simple homework grade. I suspected either a student was trying to curry favor by providing difficult questions, or he was joking about their origins.

Each day, he reminded us of the financial cost of each class session. He kept track of the total with credit hours, regularly emphasizing the burden of tuition fees.

I sensed that he was trying to push me to withdraw from the course, relishing the thought of me losing money. He wanted the experience to sting.

His bullying persisted throughout the semester.

At that time, my disabilities were listed as anxiety and PTSD. The way he treated me often triggered my symptoms, causing frequent flashbacks during class.

I had never before encountered such blatant discrimination against invisible disabilities from an educator. While previous teachers had misunderstood my needs, they at least attempted to accommodate them.

It seemed clear that he believed I was feigning my disabilities for an easier academic experience.

Undeterred, I persevered through the first quarter of the semester, although I wondered if he had given me a more challenging version of the tests than the other students received.

I had no insight into what their exams looked like; I completed mine in a soundproof testing center.

I knew that even if I passed this class, my GPA would still suffer. I studied diligently, but it made little difference. I began to question whether it was worth the stress. I was convinced he would take pleasure in either my poor grade or my decision to drop the course.

After discussing my situation with my therapist, I resolved to disregard Mr. M’s intentions and focus on my own well-being.

Ultimately, I chose to withdraw from the class, feeling as if a weight had been lifted. He continued to greet me with his insincere friendliness whenever we crossed paths, to which I would respond politely. I understood he would take joy in my distress, but I was determined not to show him that he had succeeded.

I later made up for the missing science credit, although it wasn’t an astronomy class. My new professor was outstanding and very accommodating.

Looking back, I wish I had given astronomy another try, particularly with a professor who respected my interest in astrology.

I took the step of leaving a negative review for Mr. M on ratemyprofessor.com. Typically, I would check reviews of my professors, and this was the first negative feedback I provided. Now, as I look at the reviews, I see even more students sharing their negative experiences with him.

I hope to have helped someone avoid his discrimination and bullying.