Always Out of Step…
I seem to always be on the other side of whatever everyone else believes.
Someone says they love Bruce Springsteen, and I know immediately I don’t. A colleague gives a kid a pep talk at report card pickup, and I can’t help thinking it’s pointless. The staffroom buzzes about some new show everyone’s streaming, and I’d rather scrub grout than watch it. Immigration, government, pop culture, education—name a topic, and I’m probably the dissenting vote.
It’s not rebellion. I don’t walk around with an “Oppositional Defiant” warning label. It’s just that the more everyone seems to agree on something, the more I instinctively don’t. I start looking for what they’re missing. When people gush about Springsteen’s “authentic working-class poetry,” I hear someone cosplaying as blue-collar between tour buses. When colleagues deliver pep talks about “turning things around next quarter,” I see kids nodding politely before going right back to sleep in class. It’s not cynicism so much as pattern recognition.
I’ve realized this reflex comes from two places.
First, I’ve spent most of my adult life in jobs that reward skepticism—law and teaching. Both demand you look for weak spots, inconsistencies, and performative nonsense. After enough years of that, it seeps into everything. I don’t hear what people say as much as what they’re trying to accomplish by saying it.
Second, I just have a low tolerance for groupthink. When something becomes the consensus, I get itchy. It’s like watching a crowd rush toward the same door—I instinctively look for the fire exit in the back. Maybe that’s about autonomy. Maybe it’s about distrust. Maybe I just like the quiet space where everyone else isn’t. Heck, I can’t even be punk (my musical preference) because I think that’s all groupthink.
The truth is, I don’t question slogans or start debates. I keep my mouth shut. I nod, smile when appropriate, and wait for the conversation to end. I don’t feel angry—just disconnected. I’ve never really found “my people.” Not in law, not in teaching, not in politics, not in music. There’s always a mismatch somewhere. Everyone else seems to sync up to the same rhythm, and I’m just offbeat.
Some days, that feels like independence. Most days, it just feels like being alone in a crowded room.