As she glanced over it, I could see the compassion flowing up, filling her face. “Who gave you this?”
I answered that the P.E. teacher had.
“Come with me to the office,” she briskly commanded. Turning to the boy and saying thank you, she started to the office, beckoning to me to follow.
Having no choice, I slowly followed her, hoping that I would be given strength by God. As soon as we got there, she motioned me to sit down on a couch in the reception room. Pulling up a chair, and ignoring the pitying glances we were getting, she asked me to tell her what had happened.
Trying to stop my sobs, and failing miserably, I started to pour out my story. She listened then excused herself for a moment after I had finished, went over to the secretary, and said that she wanted her to dial up the teacher's phone and also to not allow him to make students who are injured run his errands for him in the future.
I saw her taking the phone, listening for a few seconds. Evidently, he had picked it up, and I soon heard her voice saying, “ Anna is here in the office, she will not be coming up to PE.”
She stood listening for a few more moments, then hung up. Walking over to me, she sat down next to me again, and told me that it was all settled, but that I must have misunderstood; He had informed her that He had not expected me to come back up.
Realizing what she had said, I sat there quietly for a moment, stunned. Gathering all my thoughts, I calmly said, “Miss, I know that I was supposed to go back up there. He told me clearly, that I was to go down, collect the papers, go back up, and fill out a form. I saw the form before I came down, it was requiring me to write paragraphs and fill out a questions about the lesson.”
I saw her face slowly comprehend what I had told her. Just then the head mistress, came in. Trying to wipe away my tears, I made an effort to compose mysel… I failed miserably. Immediately, as she sat down next to me, I was bawling again. She looked over at the one who had been helping me, her eyes asking the question that I had heard so many times before that day.
“Please explain. I can’t, “I requested.
Shebegan the long story, ending with the ominous words,” He gave her the observation form.”
The head mistress began to speak, explaining that this was not the first time, but that she would take care of it, etc. etc.
I felt bad for her, it must have been a tough position... she was the headmistress, and therefore, it would have been wrong to criticize a teacher, even if it was for a good reason. She tried to be as neutral as possible, explaining that he was only doing it to prevent troublemakers from gaming the system. But, at the same time, she understood that I would not have done it for that purpose. She also informed me that it was good for me to have come to her and told her...
At this, I looked pleadingly at the right-hand woman and tried to ensure that I would be considered a snitch by asking her to tell the headmistressthat she had found me—I had not sought her out. I did not want my pe teacher to get into trouble to get into trouble. She reassured me that that would not be the case, and that she knew that I did not want to cause any problems with him. She then told me that I could stay there for the rest of the period and try to calm down.
As soon as the bell rang for the release from school, I rushed off to get my bag and climbed aboard the bus so that I would not meet any other classmates with my tear-streaked face. Knowing that crying on the bus would evoke questions, I wisely abstained from shedding any tears and waited until I returned home to freely cry to my heart’s content. When I arrived, I learned that my mom had visited the local playground with Grace.
Calling her to ask her when she would be back, I implored her to hurry up, as I had something to share with her. Then, going into my mom’s bedroom, I lay down on the bed and cried. After having shed all the tears that I thought possible, and hearing a knock, I went to answer the door, which turned out to be my mom. Going into the kitchen to start my lunch for the next day, I started putting together ingredients while my mom finished doing a few things. Coming into the kitchen soon, my mom, as is the customary habit with her, asked how my day was. I replied that it was probably the worst day. She immediately asked why.
To be continued…
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