Pages

Friday, September 30, 2011

Instructor M











"Please don't drop my class.," pleaded Instructor M.

"I'm leaving for City College. I would like to major in Architecture. I looked for Architecture in this college, I didn't find it. I've always wanted to design airports, bridges, buildings, roads, and skyscrapers. Accounting isn't what I want to major in," I said.

"I will help you. If you come to my office, I will help you with Accounting."

"Accounting is boring. I would rather design. I'm an artist. I like to use my brain to create."

"I promise! I will make it fun for you. If you allow me to touch your breasts. That's creative," he said.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked.

"When you come to my office, we'll create."

Instructor M and I crossed paths in 1987 in a college setting. As a matter of fact, I took my first accounting course, Principles of Accounting One with him. He earned an MBA from another university. I'm not certain why he didn't bother to procure a Ph.D. A week later, I had a change of mind. I decided to leave for City College so as to major in Architecture as opposed to Accounting. However, Instructor M stopped me dead in my tracks. He forbade me to drop his course. He falsely imprisoned me at the reception area in the Accounting Department on the 15th floor. Under normal circumstances, I would have walked away. Because we were on the 15th floor, my legs were transfixed to the ground. I developed a phobia for elevators when I was nine months pregnant. I was trapped inside one for two hours. Not only was I between the rock and the hard place, the receptionist was nowhere to be found. He must have paid her a day's salary. He was also a CPA. Given that I was terrified of pulleys, I got stuck with the class until the very end. Not surprisingly, I did not go to his office. It was also on the 15th floor. If anything, I dodged him like a bullet. If truth be told, I avoided him like the bubonic plaque. I was naive and young. And he capitalized upon it.  It didn't matter if I already had a son. Because of my brain injuries, I couldn't grow past 8 years old. Some women in Africa and America continuously bullied me. Fortunately, I didn't encounter them in Europe. Through out the semester, I sat in his class avoiding eye contact. I couldn't wait for the semester to end. In the end, I received a C. And I prayed to God we would never encounter again.

As a matter of fact, I breezed through a four- year program in two years. I geared up to graduate in May 1989 until he arrested me again. In Spring 1989, I took the last accounting course, Auditing with him. He issued me an F grade for failing to come to his office. To date, it's the only F on my transcript. He added insult to injury when he started blackmailing Attorney P. That's why, he broke up with me in 1990.

"Go to him. He's always wanted to be with you," said Attorney P.

"I don't want to be with him. I would rather be with you," I said.

Because he issued me an F in Auditing, I couldn't graduate in spring 1989. I re-took it with another professor in fall 1989 and passed it. Still, the college refused to bestow me with a BS in Accounting. It was as though they were waiting for me to have sex with him. Finally, I went to the Dean's Office and filed a complaint for sexual harassment. A panel of 12 jurors were appointed. 10 were women while two were men. Ironically, all 10 women sided with him. The two men believed me. Still, the college declined to award me a degree. Instead, the Dean advised me to take more courses. I shelled out another $2,000 for Spring 1990. Then, I waited for them to graduate me. To my dismay, their refusals were adamant. And so, I made a conscious decision. On May 30, 1990, I packed up my bags and moved to Los Angeles. I left my forwarding address with the Dean of Students and school. He promised he would convince them to issue me a diploma. He and Attorney P gave me the benefit of the doubt.

In August 1990, he made good on his pledge. They had reached a consensus. They awarded me a BA in Economics and Mathematics. There was no mention of a BS in Accounting. Yet, I had satisfied all the courses needed to sit for the CPA exam.

"You're still an Accountant. You may show them your transcipt. As a matter of fact, you have more than one major. You have Accounting, Economics and Mathematics. All Accounting courses are Economics classes in this college. That's why, they awarded you a BA in Economics and Mathematics as opposed to a BS in Accounting. I fought hard for you. You're hard working. You graduated with 140 semester credits as opposed to 120. And you accomplished them in 3 years. Well done!" he said.

"All right, I'll accept a BA in Economics and Mathematics. Thanks for the vote of confidence. Thanks for fighting passionately for me," I said.

In 1992, I called Attorney P from Los Angeles. He was excited to hear from me. We started laughing again. A week later, he said that his hours had been reduced. This meant that he was on the verge of being fired. I didn't call him again until 2001. It was too late. In 1998, he died from pancreatic cancer. Yet again, I believe he had been poisoned. I truly believe that the 10 women were the ones who poisoned him, not Instructor M. When I learned, he had died, I decided to obtain a JD. In 2003, my son and I embarked on a journey. I had been accepted at a law school in Massachusetts. Immediately, I enrolled him at University of Massachusetts. However, he never made it out of Maryland. Female terrorists kidnapped him. Four months later, my beloved father passed. In two years, I lost three men. Because I'm the daughter of a reporter, my brain doesn't rush to judgment. In fact, my father and I obtained a degree from City University of New York (CUNY). He studied Journalism at Brooklyn College. CUNY owns more than 20 colleges in NYC. Brooklyn and City Colleges are two of them. I might add that female terrorists fired me on May 30, 2000 because I had coffee with President & CEO T. They had grand illusions I would become Monica Lewisky. A reminder we had met for five minutes to discuss my children's books. Both  he and Attorney P were present at Yale. For these reasons, I fought passionately for children, my father, son, and Attorney P in 24 federal courts from June 2003 until June 2010. Each time, I asked defense attorneys to donate money to children's organizations, return my son, apologize to me (scores of food poisoning, wrongful terminations, freezing of bank accounts, refusals to hire, grand larceny, grand theft, to name a few) and pay us damages. Their refusals were adamant. To be frank, they've continued to poison me. I suffered the last bout on September 30, 2011. It has become a never-ending obsession. They like to terrorize especially during the months of June, September and December.

It begs the question. Marriage Made in Heaven or Hell? Would our marriage have been made in heaven or hell? Hell!!! He gave me an F. Again, it's the only F on my transcript. It's precisely why I've never bothered to sit for the CPA exam.

No comments:

Post a Comment