The other day over chili spaghetti Hannah told me how much she liked her principal, but that she wasn't working now because she "went to the doctor, or something." The gym teacher had assumed her role. It caught me off guard that someone in school would actually like the principal. My principals were soul crushing trolls that wanted little to do with the students, unless they saw an opportunity for their humiliation.
My highschool and junior high principal (the same guy) was an aging lush, who spent the first half of the day in his office, and the second in a pub called Wolpert's. His greatest contribution to my education was banning shorts in school because they could be too distracting. Forget about the 100 degree weather distracting anyone. (Thanks Mr, Florio.) My elementary school principal was a wicked woman, who no doubt was the inspiration for several Disney movie villians. Her name was Miss Copeland, and I'll never forget my one encounter with her.
I was in the 4th grade eating lunch with my friends in the cafeteria. All was well until I offered to trade my Zagnut candy car for a fruit roll up. Fruit roll ups were still pretty new, and I had been unsuccessful in convincing my mom to buy them for me. I saw I golden opportunity to trade a whole candy bar for one little tiny fruit roll up. It was, and still is, my belief that trading your lunch is part of growing up in America. Well, the freedom hating Miss Copeland saw things quite differently.
She had been stalking me from behind. I didn't see her when I made my offer, but she made her presence known immediately. She began yelling at me, and shaking my arm grasping the Zagnut. She informed me that my mother had packed that item for me and me alone, and it was meant for only me to eat, and not to be foolishly bartered to another child. She dressed me down for about 3 minutes, then ordered me to remain standing while finishing my lunch at the table sobbing in front of my now stunned friends. Lunchtime seemed to last hours that day.
Now, I can understand the total humiliation of a nine year old for the crime of trading a wholesome sandwich for some junky M&M's, but candy for candy? My teacher came over to ask why I was so upset, but alas, I was inconsolible. I'm sure now that Miss Copeland doesn't remember our encounter, (hell, maybe she's dead) but it sure did leave an impression upon me. I really did believe that principals hated children for years. I guess that those who cannot do, teach, and those who cannot teach, become principals (or counselors).
