So it seems I am soon to be a tutor, for over-privileged suburban kids, to the tune of $30/hour (except, of course, at one local high school, where the going tutoring rate is $50/hour, which is what my mother used to make at her moonlighting job during her residency–yikes!).
I have various objections to being a tutor, although I’m afraid that the money means that none of them are going to keep me from doing it. My first objection, of course, is that people who live here already have enough priviliges in their life, and they hardly need a Latin tutor to insure that they get better scores on the goddam SAT. (So far as I know, the only reason anyone ever studies Latin is to up her SAT scores. This is not why I studied Latin, but I was an odd duck. I studied Latin because of my dead father. Dead fathers are, of course, another time honored reason for doing things, so perhaps I’m not that odd).
In other news, it seems that I am now married. Three or four times in the past couple of weeks I have either been addressed as “Mrs.,” or asked for my husband’s name or profession. I suppose they think any woman out and about here in the ‘burbs in the middle of the day must be a housewife. (The vet’s office has been the chief culpritl, although I will say that they all love my cat, even when I told them I was a single cat mother). When I was a graduate student, people seemed to assume that I was basically asexual and never dated. Now it seems everyone assumes I’m married. Either way, as I recently said to a friend, I’m not getting any.