Iwalked into his office
...t to hear it." I shut my mouth and let him ramble on. I have a lot of better things to do with my time, I think to myself. Listening to people you really don’t care to listen to is quite boring. So, I let my mind wander. I think of how many runs I could be snowboarding down at this very moment. I think about what I need to get when I go shopping tomorrow after school. I think about what Katie said about skipping. Finally, I become increasingly bored and begin to conjugate everything he is saying to me, from English into Spanish. I am always doing this. It’s like a game for me, I like to test myself, and believe it or not, it helps me in class. When he is through with his spiel I speak up again, "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 in a while. After waiting in the office for what seams like hours, he returns. "Oh, you did have a note for Friday, nevermind about that then." he says. He doesn’t even apologize for wrongly accusing me. What a jerk. The nerve some people have. So there I sit, the bad little girl in the principal’s office. The girl with the attitude. The girl with the "chip on her shoulder." The girl with the screwed up family. He regains his position in his desk. He hides behind his little playing field. His desk is cluttered with detention, ISS, and make-up slips. It’s truly a disaster, how unprofessional, I think. He informs me that I have five hours of detention to make up. He would like to schedule them now. I think for a minute. I can’t schedule them, because I don’t even know my own schedule. I sit there, and he repeats himself, "When do you want to make these up?" As with all other authority figures, he repeats himself. I sit. "I can come in tomorrow morning and schedule them. I am very sorry, but I don’t know my schedule at this point and time." Again, he repeats himself, "I need these scheduled now." I look up at him with a "Who are YOU?" look. I don’t even know this person, and he is telling me that I have to schedule these detentions now. I once again remind him that I don’t have my schedule for next week yet. He won’t take my answer. I feel my face begin to burn. I feel all of my frustrations from the past six months of school build. I think of all the times I left this heel hole in search of some sort of relief. I think of all the assignments, essays, papers, tests, and lectures. I think of all the teachers, and I think of how illogical and ignorant most of them are. I think of all the people in my school, and I wonder if they really are people. Then he begins with the, "You need to get your priorities set straight." speech. Like I haven’t heard that one before. I know what I need to do. I don’t need to be told by some jerk that doesn’t even know the first thing about me. He doesn’t know me; he doesn’t know my family, or my life. I look up and stare at him. His face reminds me of an elf. A little elf, with big, round ears. His eyes seem cocked. He looks as though he has been looking at chalk boards from the wrong angle his whole life. I sit, and stare. He tells me what a bad kid I have been, put in Lamen’s terms, of course. No person of authority will ever actually come out and say, ‘you’re a bad kid.’ They will say something like, ...