dont+throw+a+dodgeball+at+the+prinipal

Don’t Throw a Dodge Ball at the Principal I was going to hit her. I really was. “No fun, no fun, and //especially// no fun!” It was third grade, the year we finally get to play on the big playground. All was good until the year started to come to an end. The heat was coming too fast. Our principal, Mrs. Acuff, felt “concerned for our health,” so she took all the fun things away. It was lunch time and she came outside and gathered us in the eating area and started crumbling our happiness. She started lecturing us on how to be safe during lunch. No one payed attention until she began listing the games being taken away. “No tag, no soccer, no dodge ball, and no running!” Everyone disagreed, even the supervisors, and some teachers, but she was an old bat who cared only about her job, and not what was right for the kids. We tried rebelling. We used a small jellyball to play football. That was shut down. We tried playing socco, not dodge ball. But our efforts were futile. We weren’t even allowed to kick a soccer ball back and forth. “It’s too dangerous, what if someone trips over it?” she said. She always had the worst excuses, but we still couldn’t do anything. There was only one thing we could do. First we followed along and didn’t have fun for a couple days. Then when she thought she did a good thing and decided not to come out for lunch, we would do whatever we wanted to. Every time we tried, there was always someone who would tell her what we were doing. We never liked her. We started to make fun of her behind her back. Calling her names. Making rumors. And I had the great idea of rearranging the letters in her name to make it a bad word. By the time it was fifth grade we didn’t care. We played right in front of her face, literally. She’d be standing there with her jaw hanging open watching us play dodge ball. Once, while she walked by, all my bottled up anger was released. I threw the dodge ball straight at her. As the ball left my hand it went straight in the direction I wanted it to. But science was not on my side. The ball started to slow down, but I knew it would do some damage. As she turned, she saw the ball hurtling at her. The boy in front of her ducked. Unfortunately, she ducked too. However, there was a small girl behind her. The ball met her face with an immense amount of force that created a loud BOOM, but was drowned out by her blood-curdling scream. Her face twisted from the force of the ball. A tooth was ejected from her mouth, and she was thrown back. She hit her friend and they met the pole. Luckily, there was padding on the pole. I thought, //that’s going to leave a mark//. The principal’s eyes met with mine. “Sorry, it slipped,” I announced. She was rushed to the nurse with her friend, and we were told not to play. Regardless, we still played. People played soccer, people ran around, and people had fun. One thing that didn’t work out was tetherball. She would play with the kids that were even brave enough to stand in the cursed line. She made rules about how softly you should hit the ball. “If it’s too hard, you could hurt someone!” I used to hear her annoying voice say. //If you get hurt,// I thought, //then you suck and you shouldn’t be playing!// Finally graduation arrived and we left that good-for nothing school. But our rebellion brought hope to those kids who’d have to stay there a little longer.Don't Throw a Dodge Ball at the Principal