AITA for withdrawing my offer to supervise a student on her internship after realizing I knew her?
In a quiet office bathed in soft morning light, a young professional sifts through emails, her coffee steaming beside a neatly organized desk. Then, a name pops up—one that drags her back to the fluorescent-lit hallways of high school, where cruel taunts once echoed. This woman, now in her late twenties, faces a dilemma: supervise a former bully for a university internship or protect her peace. The decision stirs a whirlwind of emotions, blending past pain with present-day professionalism.
The choice isn’t simple. Old wounds clash with workplace ethics, and a flurry of angry texts from the student only muddies the waters. Readers can’t help but wonder: should she set aside her trauma to help someone who once made her life miserable, or is standing her ground the right call?
‘AITA for withdrawing my offer to supervise a student on her internship after realizing I knew her?’
Navigating past trauma in a professional setting is like walking a tightrope over a pool of piranhas. The OP’s decision to decline supervising her former bully reflects a keen awareness of personal boundaries and workplace ethics. According to Dr. Amy Cooper, a clinical psychologist specializing in workplace dynamics, “Past trauma can significantly impact professional relationships, especially in supervisory roles where power dynamics are at play” (Psychology Today). The OP’s hesitation stems from a valid concern: supervising someone with a history of personal conflict could compromise objectivity, especially if the internship goes south.
The broader issue here touches on workplace boundaries and the lingering effects of bullying. Studies show that 60% of adults report long-term emotional impacts from childhood bullying (National Bullying Prevention Center). The OP’s choice to prioritize her mental health over the student’s academic needs highlights a common struggle: balancing personal well-being with professional obligations. The student’s aggressive texts, including a jab about high school, only reinforce the OP’s instincts—she hasn’t changed much.
Dr. Cooper advises, “Setting boundaries doesn’t mean holding grudges; it’s about protecting your ability to function effectively.” For the OP, this means avoiding a role where past trauma could cloud judgment. A solution? The university should prioritize alternative placements, even if it delays the student’s graduation. If harassment persists, documenting and reporting it ensures accountability without escalating personal conflict. This approach keeps the focus on professionalism while inviting readers to reflect on similar experiences.
Check out how the community responded:
The Reddit crew didn’t hold back, dishing out a spicy mix of support and shade for the OP’s dilemma. It’s like a virtual coffee shop debate, with opinions as bold as a double espresso. Here’s what the community had to say:
These Redditors rallied behind the OP, praising her professionalism while roasting the student’s unprofessional texts. Some saw the student’s behavior as proof she hasn’t outgrown her bully days, while others urged reporting her to the university. But do these fiery takes capture the full picture, or are they just adding fuel to the drama?
The OP’s story is a stark reminder that the past can sneak into the present, forcing tough choices between empathy and self-preservation. By standing firm, she chose her mental health and professional integrity over a risky obligation. Yet, the student’s desperate pleas raise questions about second chances. What would you do if faced with a similar situation? Share your thoughts—have you ever had to confront a past bully in a professional setting, and how did you handle it?