Imagine turning to your high school coach and saying something, bringing up an issue. Or going to the principal or even his secretary and saying, “I know Principal Williams is very busy. So I’d like to set up an appointment with him.”
“What for?” The secretary asks.
“To discuss how I might be a better student.”
And I know she wants more. But I keep my mouth shut.
“I apologize,” I say, finally having to say something. “But I feel that this school really cares, genuinely cares about their students and what I’m trying to say is that I’d like some things to work. P.E. isn’t working. I’d like to be able to work at something that I might enjoy.”
By now the Principal Williams is standing next to the secretary. He says to me, “You will have do like the others do.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But I will have to go someone else, then. My parents. My sisters. My cousins. An aunt who once told me I could come to her with any problems. I will go to other teachers. Other adults.”
I take a deep breath, adding: “I know this school cares about its students.”
He thinks about it, sighing and shifting his weight. “Come into my office tomorrow morning, as soon as get here.”
“Yessir.” It was the feeling that I’d managed, little old me, had manage to change something. “Thank you, sir.”