One story ends, another begins

With any luck, I am near the end of the practicum fiasco I've been describing here. I had a meeting with faculty earlier this week in which I finally learned what I had supposedly done that was so terribly disrespectful toward my classmates. Seems someone has been telling my faculty that I refer to my female classmates as "bitches" in class.

Whoa! Right?

Considering that this is an absurd and utterly inaccurate accusation -- at least as far as I and many of my classmates are concerned -- I'm ready to put the whole thing behind me. I have done enough of my own self-work over this issue. I have endless more self-work to do, of course. But when it comes to this? I'm done. Just totally ... done....

No doubt I'll eventually get myself raked over the coals in internship by my new Gestalt supervisor. But I am hopeful that the self-examination asked of me in that process is done with a focus on guidance and growth based on meaningful observations by my supervisors. The vague, scolding "feedback" from my practicum was not especially helpful and, with its damning air, caused me a great deal more stress than necessary.

Now it's time to move on.

It's also helpful, too, to have a little scandal in my school create enough fuss to make whatever vague complaints exist about me just fade into the background. Everyone -- and I mean *everyone* -- seems really put out by revelations that the (now-former) dean of our graduate school has gotten himself some notoriety as a Lothario of sorts. Or at least as a hypocritical liberal White male. Or as a fallable human for whom forgiveness might be helpful. All of those. And maybe even none of them. Depends on your perspective.

As for me, I'm trying to hold all those things as being the case. Those and a dozen other realities.

I have been humbled by the flood of perspective that people shared with me over the past month. Getting all that feedback from so many quarters -- and seeing how impossible it is to make sense of it in a way that's congruent with what I know and believe about myself -- has reminded me of the unique perspective each of us has.

I already knew this, but the sheer scope and overwhelming nature of the feedback I received from so many people was a radical experience that moved the idea of perspective from an intellectual knowing to an embodied knowing.

I am not pleased with the actions of the dean of my graduate school, as described in published accounts. It touches a nerve for me in terms of where "true" openness meets liberal lipservice about diversity issues.

However, the past few weeks have reminded me acutely that there is not just "another side" to the story, there are dozens of sides to the story. As much as I'm bothered by abuse of power -- having recently felt its seering heat in my own life -- I am also feeling empathy for everyone involved in the situation. Not just for the dean and the woman he was found to have harrassed, but for his colleagues and the students who felt betrayed. And also for those who found the sense of betrayal to just be more liberal hypocrisy.

Everyone's got an angle on that story, and it's kinda fun and invigorating to discuss it. Very much a playground for debate.

But it's also useful to remember that everyone also has an angle on the Story of Me. And an angle on the Story of You.