Threatening Words
As I read the letter aloud the students exploded with outrage, he tried to justify his actions, but it only raised the temperature of their anger.
When we reached the point where I mentioned his racial slurs the class blew up. Dallas asked what word he used, the teacher said it was the N-word, and immediately attempted to justify it.
Dallas yelled at him. “You can’t use that word!”
“It doesn’t mean what you think it means.” Mr. Lounds recoiled back into his chair, his words were frantic and weak.
“I don’t care what you think it means, it is not for you to say!”
“It’s not a race thing, it is a type of people.” Mr. Lounds tried to defend himself.
“Why did you even bring it up? What does that have anything to do with massage?” Her eyes were glowing with the heat of a furnace as she yelled.
He went quiet.
She sat back down with her arms crossed, then started packing up her things.
“Were you offended?” He turned to Jarnell, who was in the room when he originally said it.
“You know, I’m not really bothered by those kinds of things. It would be different if you were talking to my child, but I don’t really care.” Jarnell said.
“It doesn’t matter how he feels about it, you shouldn’t be saying it!” She stood and yelled at the instructor again.
The rest of the class was getting nervous, and the teacher told me to continue reading. When I addressed how he sexualized Jarnell in class the instructor interjected. “When do I ever sexualize other students?”
“All the time!” Dallas replied.
“I don’t flirt with him; I am not gay.”
“It doesn’t seem like it.” She said.
“Do I make you guys feel uncomfortable?”
“Yes.” Many of the students replied.
“Are you sure you want me to continue reading?” I asked.
“Keep reading, I am not the bad guy here. Shawn is the one creating the problem. He is the one always causing problems in the classroom.”
The students were livid as I described how poorly he treated us in class.
“I talk with you that way to motivate you.”
“It’s not working. I hate coming into class.” Dallas replied.
“Don’t you see what Shawn is trying to do? I’m not the bad guy here. I am trying to help you.” He yelled.
I continued reading and Mr. Lounds attempted to justify his actions. The boiling point of the room burst, and every student picked up their belongings and started to leave. Mr. Lounds glared at me and threatened: “I will do everything I can to make sure you never get your massage license.”
The class walked out on him that day, but this war was not over. I could not let the threat against my license go, so I went to the administration to file a complaint. I filled out the forms and wrote my report. The next day the administration reached out to the students. They told them they were going to investigate what happened in the classroom. Every student was interviewed before me, their time with the administration was short and their conversations were private.
When my time came our interview was much longer than those of the other students. The administration asked me the same questions over and over, it was like they were trying to see if I would skip a beat and mess up my story, I didn’t, and at the end of the interrogation they asked me what I expected to come from this complaint. I told them: “Nothing short of his resignation or termination.”
Three days later he resigned.
It was a victory, and it gave me high hopes that this school would turn the corner and start investing in their students.
You would expect the school to step up and raise the bar by providing their students with teachers who actually cared about their education, but they didn’t. We got two new teachers, one was actually pretty good, but he was only in the classroom one day a week. The other was a piece of work. He would often ramble on about irrelevant topics unrelated to massage therapy, he had a strong bias toward the female students, and took an unethical approach to test taking. If a student ever failed to show up on a test day he would let them take it on break, which is fine, but when they failed the test he let them retake it. When they retook the test he would let them do it with an open book, when they failed the test again he would leave the answer key on the table just in range for their eyes to see. He rarely if ever showed the class techniques, taught body mechanics, or demonstrated draping. Most of the time he would sit at his computer desk either sleeping or texting. He would ask us to read the chapter before class, but when we showed up the next day we would read the chapter out loud together. Sometimes he would shame me for standing up to the prior instructor or treat me like a fool.
Massage School Improved from Terrible to Bad
My learning environment went from terrible to bad, sure it was an improvement, but it wasn’t worth the money I was paying. I tried to bring up these problems with the instructor, but I would get ignored. What was I to do? I was so tired, and my body hurt all the time, I was having trouble breathing and I was worn out from the last war. I just didn’t have it in me to take another stand, so I chose to invest in my own success. Sure I could have done something, but I only had the energy to invest in one meaningful path. I chose to invest in myself, and even though the other students were allowed to cheat, and unethically achieve grades better than mine, I would compete against myself. It was the only fair fight I could engage with, so I turned my passion to 100% and took the plunge.
I studied five hours a day every day. I practiced hands on massage as much as I could. The school refused to provide tables to their students at the time, so I bought my own and worked as hard as I could to develop my skills.
I was in constant pain, sometimes I could barely breathe, most days I felt like there was some kind of monster eating me alive, and my blood felt like it was boiling. I continued to push as hard as I could. As I started to feel worse, I wondered if the problem was the amount I was exercising, so I started working out.
For the rest of the curriculum I told myself clinicals would be better, this gave me a goal post to shoot for. I thought that at the end of my journey I would have a place to settle my soul. I hoped to learn from an instructor who was actually invested in their student’s success.
When clinicals started I was so hopeful, I really needed a win. I wanted to be wrapped with inspiration and positive vibes. I hungered for practical knowledge, I wanted to be a massage therapist and thus far all we focused on was academia.
The hands-on training I received during clinicals were immeasurably lackluster. Very little was spent on hands on massage. Instead the time was invested toward making up for the inadequate education we received during the first part of the curriculum.
The overall vibe of clinicals were terrible. Everyone seemed lost, disinterested and without direction. Since no power structure existed students fought for dominance, and infighting was common. It was chaotic and hard on the soul.
There was no magic in massage school. In reflection it was everything a massage was never meant to be.
I would beg and plead with the instructor to help me, to teach me techniques or help me practice my draping, but it was like pulling teeth. The frustration was unbearable. What was I paying for? I didn’t know it then, but these experiences would shape me into an incredible force with unstoppable passion. Unfortunately my baptism by fire had only begun.
