RAGE.

I HAVEN'T BEEN THIS ANGRY FOR A LONG TIME.

I had a meeting with a university advisement counselor this morning, and I went all out to prepare. I compiled a paper with the schedule I've so meticulously planned, my AP credits and their application to GE requirements, and a complete summary of my financial aid. I brought along the course map for my intended major and a copy of my resume, as well as a sheet of prepared questions to ask. I arrived ten minutes early for the appointment.

Guess what?

The idiot wrote me off within the first five minutes. He called my name, and I stood up to shake his hand. I watched him examine the highlights in my styled blonde hair, my colorful skirt and complementary suit jacket, and my color-coordinated makeup, making no attempt to hide his disdain.
From that point on, it became blatantly obvious that I was nothing to him but a mindless, blonde stereotype of a seventeen-year-old girl, obviously incapable of entertaining even the vaguest idea about what she really wanted--least of all, involvement in a complicated science major.

Taking me back to his office, he told me to sit in a chair as he pulled up his computer. He stared at the screen almost the entire time, mumbling vague, memorized responses to my carefully designed questions. I handed him my resume and comprehensive sheet, and he didn't even glance through them, preferring instead to stack them in a corner of his desk and hand them back to me at the end of our session. He never offered me one word of affirmation or asked one question about my experience or interests. I had to probe to get even the least specific reply.

When I asked about the major, he appraised me skeptically and said, "It's a lot of math and science. If you're bad at that, you probably shouldn't be here."
Taken aback, I attempted to further demonstrate my interest, and he cut me off with, "Look, a lot of students who thought they were academically inclined in high school get here and realize they're really social butterflies, and they don't do as well as they expected."

SOCIAL BUTTERFLY??
I'm a National Merit Scholar. I graduated with a 4.0. I took seven AP classes. I completed three medical internships. I'm the Utah state gold medalist and national bronze medalist in medical terminology. I held a steady job for three years. I'm certified to practice medical assisting and phlebotomy. I did humanitarian aid in Southeast Asia. I've won multiple writing contests and been published twice.
I WANT YOU TO TELL ME WHAT I NEED TO DO TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY.

If it were 1970, I'd expect this kind of treatment.
It's 2008.
Girls make up HALF of all medical school applicants these days.
Yes, I'm a girl.
Yes, I take care of myself.
Yes, I happen to enjoy math and science.
THESE THINGS ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE.
IT'S NOT THAT DIFFICULT TO UNDERSTAND.

I walked out of his office and collapsed on a bench outside, unable to control my sadness and rage for any longer.
Pathetic as it sounds, I sobbed all the way home.