quandary

Today in Contracts, my favorite class, the prof effed up.

Every day she calls on people, going in order. Why I like her is that she pushes - she holds you on the spot but she leads you to answers, also.

Today she didn't push much. She returned to a person she'd ended with last week and then went to Candace. One question, four parts - a very simple question. Then on to Mike, who was asked only one question, and then on to some girl in the front, who got a bunch of questions to flesh out, and then some guy in the next section who got a bunch of questions.

Candace and Mike are black.

Mike was livid and Candace was passing notes with the woman behind her about it, trying to figure out what was going on. Of course I had noticed it and had hoped they didn't. They did.

So now I feel like I need to go talk to the prof. Mike probably won't, and Candace isn't sure what she experienced. I wish I weren't.

It's textbook. How so often teachers treat males and females differently in their classrooms, but here it was about race (and I choose that word rather than ethnicity deliberately).

And I have to figure out a way to help the professor understand how what she did was really wrong, without making her defensive. Of course I don't think she's racist, and I'm sure she will deny it completely and will have lots of excuses.

But this place is hostile to black students and things like that matter a lot. Each person gets called on one time per semester, and that's it. Because we don't do papers or anything, it's the one chance to get feedback on our thinking. And Mike and Candace were denied that opportunity.

This feels icky, but I know I have to say or do something. So, it's not really a quandary. The prof liking me is far less important than saying something. It's blind grading, and she doesn't know me well enough to write a letter of rec for me anyways.

Damn it. Sometimes I get tired of being me.