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Picture Credits:
So there I stood facing the wall, as students passed up and down the hallway.
The waiting was unbearable, the torment unjustified.
“Wait in the hall for the Principal to see you.”
The words echoed through my brain, and I was a nervous wreck.
She said I cheated on the spelling test, but it wasn't my fault she forgot,
and gave the same test two days in a row.
I did well on the first one, and the answers were still in my desk.
How was it cheating if I copied from my own work?
“If you get strapped at school, you’ll get strapped when you get home.”
(Words of wisdom from my parents)
“But the girl behind me tattled on me, Dad! She never did like me.”
The Principal finally made his appearance.
He had been there the whole time, watching, enjoying the show.
He was Satan in a suit.
“Now hold your hand out flat. If you cup your hand I will double the strokes.”
I did as I was told and the strokes came hard.
The first one was a bitter sting, and I winced, but did not cry.
The second one was expected.
“Not so bad,” I thought, “I can handle this.”
But the Principal did not want you to ‘handle this’.
He wanted terror, but I would not satisfy his need.
Then it was over.
I was either too honest or just plain stupid, but I told my parents anyway.
They actually agreed with me, that the girl who tattled was in the wrong.
I never did get the second strapping.
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