Secrets of Myself

"What do you do?" someone innocently asks at some social function, not knowing that such a simple quetion causes my shoulders to tense and my mind to whirl. The answer won't be what they are expecting and I don't want to be categorized before they have a chance to get to know me. So, as some sort of odd defensive maneouver I become perversely literal. "What do you do?" they ask. "Teach," I answer. I also grade, consult, attend meetings, write, research, edit, advise, and numerous other activities, but teaching is at the heart of what I do and it is a safe answer. "Oh, what do you teach?" That's easy, "history." This is also safe as it seems like a perfectly respectable answer and conforms to the assumption that they have made and that I have done nothing to dispel that I teach in the public school system. So far we are on safe ground. When I am particularly skilled I can now turn the conversation to ask about what they do and we can avoid any follow-up questions until after they get to know me a bit. This mental gymnastics is ridiculous, but I can't seem to stop. And it makes me wonder why.