class / consciousness

I had a moment of truth at about 7:30 tonight. I had just punched out at the end of my shift, and I was hitting rush hour on Route 4, still in uniform. I reflected on the fact that I was a thirty year old shift worker driving a seven year old car, eating a fast food cheeseburger on my way to night school at the local community college. Not very fancy. In fact, I felt like some sort of poster child for the 21st century proletariat, or maybe the subject of a Bruce Springsteen song.

That, of course, smells of bullshit. I've got everything I need, and a lot of what I want. I've been given a lot of resources, and consequently, I have high expectations for my ability to contribute. I'm not an elitist, but I know I'm pretty smart, and I'm used to fairly consistent success. It's probably not such a bad thing, then, that I was reminded tonight that I'm still no better than anybody else, and am as likely as anyone else to get ketchup on my shirt if I try to eat my dinner on Route 4.

I have eight more weeks of this consciousness-raising to look forward to. The statistics class itself looks like a cakewalk, and they're not counting attendance. We'll see how I do after a shift in the ER tomorrow.