“What the hell makes you think you are capable of empathy!?
What makes you think you can somehow step into the shoes of another? You think
your life experience has been so broad and so deep that you can step into the
shoes of another? How pretentious to the point of pathetic! Disgraceful! You
should be ashamed of yourself.” He scowled at the head of the class, pacing
back and forth jerking his head and torso about pausing only to stare into the
eyes of a student for effect.
“But aren’t we here to learn how to empathize?” came out a
voice with equal parts trepidation and confidence.
“Learn to empathize, learn to empathize, learn,
llllleeeaaarrrnnn to empathize! Jesus Christ! What are you doing here? Did you
learn to be genuine!? Did you? Answer me! Joe Pesci help me they want to learn
to empathize! I think we need a break; I think you need to think about what you’ve
done here. Yep you need a grown up time out. Go home, just go home and
cogitate, put on Yanni or whatever it is you people listen to and think about
your actions and their consequences. You better come here next class ready to
empathize your asses off. You are going to be stepping into some filthy shoes,
shoes that don’t fit, that make you uncomfortable, shoes too tight, too wide,
shoes with no heels, shoes with blood all over them, with guilt inside, shoes
that hold manipulators and abusers, the abused and manipulated… and you are
going to climb inside and walk a mile…and don’t come in here next class talking
about sympathizing; I’ll throw yer ass outta my class quicker than you can say
DSM IV. So go home, get outta my sight.”
“Aren’t you going to give us a syllabus?”
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