Repetitive Conversations

I've lead a life that has been, up to this point anyway, rather interesting.

It isn't my fault. I blame my windswept and interesting mother.

Seriously, I do. I blame the poor woman for all kinds of things.

Still I suppose part of maturity is finally taking responsibility for one's own actions. I am here in Bella Bella, more or less of my own doing. I like it here. I like the place and most of the people that I have met here.  Which is why when I find myself in a rather disturbingly repetitive and frustrating conversation I have to resist the urge to reach out and slap my fellow conversant.

Them: So what do you do?

Me: I teach a grade 5/6 split.

Them: Oh, how wonderful! Where?

Me: Bella Bella.

Them: Where is that?

Me: It is a remote community on the Northwest Coast of Canada.

Them: Oh, is that like a reserve?

Me: It is the traditional area of the Heiltsuk people, yes.

Them: Wow, you're so brave. (Or another variant: That is so great of you.)

My inner monologue: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuucking Aida. I do a job, I get paid, I am not Mother Teresa and these are not lepers. 

My outside voice: Whatever, I teach I get paid, the kids are awesome. Its a beautiful area.

Them: Are you in the minority, I mean are there other white people there?

My inner monologue: No it's all fucking purple-polka-dotted-giraffes.

My outside voice: There is quite a mix of cultures.

Them: How do they treat you?

At this point I usually just give them a blank stare and play stupid.

My outside voice: They? You mean people?

My Inner voice: RACIST! MORON!**

**At this point in my mind I am jumping up and down pointing my finger at them.

Anyway, to say the least this position has not made me more tolerant, in point of fact it has made me less tolerant of bigots, racists, and stupid people. This is a long-winded way of saying that if you should hear that I lost it and kicked someone in the junk, the above conversation might be the root of said evil.