Meeting with the principal

Essay by macadouses May 2005

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I walked into his office. The look on his face was distasteful. He made me feel inferior to him. I didn't feel welcome, or even accepted. I sat. He gazed into my tired eyes, and he asked me the following, "What's going on?" How am I supposed to respond to this sort of question? If I say "nothing," it's a given that there is something. I reply with a comment, which is very versatile, "Not much, and yourself?" He gives me a look of disappointment. The kind of look you get when your parents find out you've been skipping school for the first time. He turns his back to me. I hate it when they do that. They always think you are going to be sitting there waiting for them to turn around. Like you think they are the most important person in the world. I don't do that though, I just admire all the pictures and quotes on his white walls.

Yeah, if he actually believed in all these sayings he wouldn't be working here, I think.

I try to do a play by play in my head of what I am going to say to him. I don't know why I do that it never helps. I always end up shooting off my mouth, and getting into trouble. He turns back around and informs me that I was absent this past Friday. Like I don't know. "Sir, I had a note for Friday." "Yeah, we'll see about that." is coldly shot back into my face. This is the part I love. I know that I turned in a note to him, and now he is going to be wrong. Something I always like to witness, I like to see people like him show some humility once...