Raven
Diamond Member
I went to college at NYU. In my first semester, I had been home from Iraq not three or four months when come idiot in my Culture Wars class started running his mouth about foreign affairs he was completely ignorant about. It was kind of a cool class, a history class where the purpose was to compare and contrast historical events to current affairs.
This kid was going on and on. Finally, I interrupted him. "Excuse me, would you actually say these things in the presence of a Soldier?"
He paused. "No, of course not. It's just my opinion."
I smiled and said, "Well, you just did. You called me a war criminal. You called me an uneducated idiot. I don't want to explain my life decisions here in the classroom, but I'm offering you the opportunity to understand why I made certain choices--why many of us make these choices, and I'm offering myself the opportunity to change your mind about the men and women who serve. We're not all just brainwashed pawns, as you put it. Let's grab coffee after class."
I had every intention of keeping it civil, of simply trying to educate a young, dumb teenager who had no idea what he was talking about.
He never took me up on my offer. He shut up after I said that, and then bolted from the classroom like a bat out of hell when it was over.
At this point in my life, I would have probably just tuned him out and tried to get over it.
I felt like this a lot of the time while I was in college, even though I wasn't actually much older than my peers. I was 22. It was right after I got out. I had applied to colleges from Iraq. It was a suggestion from a butterbar, and it actually made sense. What college is going to reject an application from the Sandbox? I got into an Ivy League school (a huge surprise for me) but ultimately decided I would rather be in Manhattan than Ithaca as they both offered the Yellow Ribbon Program, and NYU is also a top tier university. Sometimes I wish I had gone to Cornell. My life would have unfolded differently.
This kid was going on and on. Finally, I interrupted him. "Excuse me, would you actually say these things in the presence of a Soldier?"
He paused. "No, of course not. It's just my opinion."
I smiled and said, "Well, you just did. You called me a war criminal. You called me an uneducated idiot. I don't want to explain my life decisions here in the classroom, but I'm offering you the opportunity to understand why I made certain choices--why many of us make these choices, and I'm offering myself the opportunity to change your mind about the men and women who serve. We're not all just brainwashed pawns, as you put it. Let's grab coffee after class."
I had every intention of keeping it civil, of simply trying to educate a young, dumb teenager who had no idea what he was talking about.
He never took me up on my offer. He shut up after I said that, and then bolted from the classroom like a bat out of hell when it was over.
At this point in my life, I would have probably just tuned him out and tried to get over it.
I felt like this a lot of the time while I was in college, even though I wasn't actually much older than my peers. I was 22. It was right after I got out. I had applied to colleges from Iraq. It was a suggestion from a butterbar, and it actually made sense. What college is going to reject an application from the Sandbox? I got into an Ivy League school (a huge surprise for me) but ultimately decided I would rather be in Manhattan than Ithaca as they both offered the Yellow Ribbon Program, and NYU is also a top tier university. Sometimes I wish I had gone to Cornell. My life would have unfolded differently.
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