The Depths of Denial

Today a young girl came to the office to get some ice for her head. She claimed one of the third grade boys hit her with a rock, and he didn't even say he was sorry. So I put my arm around her, marched her over to the third grade where we stood silently just inside the door frame. Slowly each member of the class took note of her standing there upset with her baggie full of ice dripping down her arm and forehead. Before too long the accused boy approached.

"What happened?" he incredulously asked.

His performance was so convincing I almost spun the little girl around to ask her if she was telling the truth. Luckily, the teacher approached to intervene. She began firmly lecturing the young boy and maintained that uncomfortable kind of eye contact only a seasoned teacher can deliver. Before I knew it, the boy started squirming in his spot and an apology came spilling forth.

I tell you Hollywood is missing out. Movies should cast mischievous eight year old boys like crazy, for they are some of the best actors I know.