One of Those People

Warning: Uncharacteristically negative diatribe-like editorial dead ahead. Proceed with spit-guard and Valium.

"Oh. You're one of those people."

I sigh inwardly, not without emotion. Outwardly I attempt to make eye contact. "One of 'those' people? By which you mean...?"

He determinedly avoids my gaze. "Aww, you know. We have one working as a bag boy. He can work anytime. Even during the day. 'Does his school at night." He's actually sneering as he blurts his explanation in the general direction of my feet.

I'm surprised at the instant rise in frustration in me. I resent this stranger's insinuation -- undefined, uninformed -- that there is a "those" and that I'm one of them.

My oldest son has a smirk on his face (I fleetingly wonder if he can see into my mind. Does he actually see the building storm there?) as he shifts his grocery basket from one hand to another. He's been holding to a consistent (and new) Just sock him in the mouth approach to problem solving. I can almost hear him urging me on behind that grin. My youngest is contentedly oblivious to the drama that has the potential to explode all over the pharmacy shelves.

Because that's where we are. In Safeway. At the pharmacy. I asked a simple question about a product and a very helpful, if a little pasty-white and balding, man came 'round the counter to dispense his medicines and, unexpectedly, his opinions.

It began with a "Why aren't these kids in school?" We (I) brace for that question, never sure what blank stare, confusion, or open judgment we'll encounter when we glibly respond that we do school at home.

"Oh. You're one of those people." I don't even know what that means. What? Did he expect us to be rifle-toting, government hating, fear mongering system haters? Perhaps he feels we over protect our children or that we under educate them? Maybe we smell funny or look peculiar?


I'm instantly angry and when he mentions that he actually knows a home schooled boy I mask my growing ire with a smile and a joke, "So, does he have any peculiar ticks or facial twitches that worry you?" My attempt to lightly suggest that he is, quite probably, a typically developing boy despite the unorthodox nature of his upbringing goes unnoticed.


Not too long ago I was openly, publicly, and loudly criticized for my choice to stay home and school our sons (I always appreciate when both of these choices -- because that's all they are: choices. Not holy callings or fear-inspired withdrawals. Just choices. -- take a blow in one swift sentence.). A group of professional adults happened to ask an off-handed question about the kids' grades to which there was, apparently a correct answer. I did not give the correct answer. Those highly educated and successful folks spent the better part of fifteen minutes schooling me on the perils of my choice and the superior nature of their own educational preferences.


I did the same thing in that encounter that I did with Pharmacy Guy: I made light of our choice and deferred to their opinions in the moment, cloaking my own building fury with an attitude of submission. I had no frame of reference for dealing with such hostility then and I don't now.

In "Horton Hears a Who" (the recently released cinematic version) the antagonist of the story is made particularly obnoxious by her "pouch school" technique in raising her 'roo. She is intolerant, narrow minded, and snidely judgmental -- not to mention entirely irrational.

Right there, on the big screen, for all the world to see the message is clear: home schoolers are idiots.

I'm not sure how Mr. Pharmacy Guy came to that conclusion for himself. I didn't stick around to press for details (What with the full schedule of brainwashing and isolating I had lined up for that afternoon). But I'd just like to state, for the record, Mr. PG, that whatever bit you think you know about those people, chances are it's just a teeny bit of an enormous BIT and it'd be kind of you to get your informational pills all stuffed into the right bottle before you dispense your poisonous cure-all on them.