i really don’t know
i was getting ready to leave when one of our data collectors came in to ask me a question. she had observed something and wanted to know how i knew what to do. “um, i don’t know?” i said sheepishly.
she laughed, and then said, “no, really. tell me.”
i blinked. “i…i don’t know.”
she raised an eyebrow at me. “but you must know, because i’ve seen you do it. it wasn’t something that you just did, you must’ve been doing it over time, otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten those results. so what did you do?”
i was blank. “i … i really don’t know.”
and i meant it. i had no idea how or what i had done. and she wanted me to present it? how? people are going to be asking me questions and all i’ll be able to answer is “uh…i don’t know.” ugh.
i just hate that feeling. i remember once in high school, we were reading poetry. now, i was not very good at the figurative stuff back then. well, maybe not even now. but i remember we were doing poetry. my english teacher who was very strict and could bore holes through you with her piercing stare, making the biggest linebackers stutter and cower in fear, had just made us read “fire and ice” by robert frost. i had been hiding behind my book the whole class, hoping she would not call on me, because i was so bad at understanding poetry. it usually worked, because she rarely called on me, and when she did it must’ve been because i tipped her off that i actually *did* know the answer (a skill i’ve picked up over the years, being able to detect when a quiet person really knows the answer). i just hated to look like i knew nothing in front of all of my classmates, you know? but anyway, we had read “fire and ice” and she asked, “what is he talking about?” i gulped and prayed she wouldn’t call on me. i stared hard into the book, not wanting to make eye contact. but in the silence that followed, i think i did peek up to see where she was standing in the room. and just like that, she called on me. UGH. my cheeks turned pink. “ummm…i don’t know,” i stammered.
“of course you do!” she scoffed.
i sunk lower into my seat. i really thought he was being literal, that the world would end in either fire (lava and stuff) or ice (glaciers and stuff). i couldn’t even think of what he was representing. my mind was blank. after a few moments, i whispered, “i really don’t know.”
oh, the look of disappointment that came upon her face killed me. i *hate* that look. i stared back at the words on the page, feeling my cheeks burn, and imagining my stomach doing the same (i had learned that the stomach lining turns pink along with your cheeks, when you blush, from 3-2-1 contact! heehee). i refused to look up, to see any other disappointment of my teacher, or snickers from my classmates. she doesn’t know! they’d say with their smirks. what an idiot!
after a long, painful silence, the teacher called the girl who was sitting near me. confidently, she answered, “love and hate.”
“correct,” came the teacher’s crisp response. and then we moved on.
but i sat there, still staring at the poem. is that what it’s about?! gee whiz. i felt so stupid. it made sense then, when someone else said it. but i would’ve never thought of that. that just made me feel so dumb, and i hate that feeling.
i’ve been clueless to questions many times, asked by parents, colleagues, resource people, interviewers. it always catches me off-guard, and i usually get out a very weak, embarrassed “i don’t know.” but then, they press me, thinking i really *do* know, and am holding back. but i truly, honestly, *really* don’t know. and it pains me to have to say that i don’t know how to do something, so when i do admit it…and then not believed, so they keep pressing me to answer…ugh. it’s the most awkward feeling in the world.
so now i have to figure out what the heck it is i’m doing so i can present it to my colleagues on monday. and i just know that i’m going to get up there and be all, “uhh, well, ummm, i… errrr…” which is also what i don’t like! i’ll hem and haw my way through it and then hours later, i’ll think of the answer to the question, and be able to answer it confidently–even though it means i’m talking to myself later on. *sigh*
i really think i need another job i can be more confident in. i really don’t know what i’m doing, and it’s not a good feeling. one day people are going to find out what i really *don’t* know and that won’t be a very pretty sight! until then i’ll have to pretend my way through it again, until i am caught, deer in the headlights, blinded by the words, but mind completely blank, stuttering to answer a question…just to be told the answer from the person next to me (which is very likely to happen!). then i’ll have to hunch away, desperately trying to disappear into the shadows, leaving with an admission that i really didn’t know what the heck i was doing all this time.
bleah.