I stormed out of classroom 112A and towards the principal's office, slamming the door behind me. I had gotten into another fight with my teacher Mrs Fable, I used to fight with my teachers a lot. I was an angry little child and I didn't care what the students or the teachers at that shitty school thought of me.

Crossing my arms I stomped to the office building of our school. The school was separated into three buildings and the office was the farthest away, closest to the street. The cool winter air bit at my arms but I refused to go back and get my jacket. Marching to the office I was seething with anger, pulling open the door I almost get flattened by one of the massive fourth graders. I stalked past the desk ladies one of which was there to interact with parents the other was for the students. You could tell because of the height difference in the desks. I had already decided that neither of them were worth my time so instead of checking in with the ladies I turned left and took a seat on one of the oversize green chairs. I was barely able to get on top of it by myself. Looking at the books left out on the table I noticed that peter pan had a brand-new rip straight down the middle someone had been here before me probably the massive fourth grader.

I had been sitting there for almost an hour and I had skimmed peter pan several times over then I read good night little moon a good couple of times waiting for the principal to stop biding his time I could see him in his room. He was just sitting there doing literally nothing. Finally, he stepped out of his office and turned to me.

“Are you ready to see me?” he asked as he hunched forward, so he could look me in the eyes without having to get on my level.

“I’ve been ready for over thirty minutes,” I responded my anger coming back at me full force, If he wasn't going treat me like an equal then he wasn’t worth my time.

“Why don't we talk in my office,” he said it like a statement instead of a question. He sounded like he wanted to go home. It wasn't even lunch yet.

Walking in to his office I looked at the hanging poster on the wall it was white with Japanese letters painted down the middle. He and his wife had lived in japan for a period of time. He had told this to me during one of our past meeting trying to get me to like him, it didn't work. Letting out a long sigh I climbed my way on to one of the chairs in his room. It was the same type of chair I had been sitting on in the waiting room. He sat down across from me and leaned forward in that “I think you are not very smart” way that every teacher at this school had mastered.

“Now why don't you tell me why you are here?”

“Shouldn't you already know,” My voice was raising. My shoulders had ridden up and my fight or flight had kicked in. And let me tell you I was ready to fight.

“I don't appreciate you yelling at me,” he hunched down farther.

“I waSN'T YELLING!” I started yelling, slamming my hands down on the round table hitting in front of us.

“I'm not going to talk with you if you are just going to yell,” he said while burying his face in his hands "why don't you go sit in detention for a bit?”

“FINE!” I stormed out of his office. This was how most of our meetings went, half of the time the principal wouldn't even bother I would just sit in detention for around half an hour then go back to class.

Detention was an old storage closet with three tables pushed together in the middle. The closet was about five feet wide and eight feet long. Once when my mother wanted to stay late and talk to the principal I saw them using it like a conference room, eight to ten teachers and the principal trying to have a serious conversation while being squished together at a table that barely sat six. The fluorescent lights were bright enough to hurt your eyes but not bright enough to full light the room however small it was, the wall farthest from the door was always shrouded by shadows. The tables were uneven and the carpet smelled like bleach. I sat with my back to the office occasionally turning around to check the time, lunch would be in about forty minutes.

The door swooshed open and I could hear footsteps approaching. My principle sat next to me then looked me in the eyes this time without the hunch.

“Are you going to tell me what's wrong?” he asked this time he actually sounded like he cared. I wanted to be angry but his disappointed voice just made me sad, but there was no way I was going to let him know that. I crossed my arms and refused to answer.

The principal let out a sigh and said “if I let you go back to class you have to promise me you won't be back for the rest of the month.” I nodded knowing full well I wasn’t going to comply. I was sent back within an hour, I had shoved Conner Smith into the outside wall.

It has been years, and I am no longer the angry child I used to be. I can't even tell you what changed I just stopped doing things based of my anger today I just force my anger deep deep down and hold it there until it dissipates on its own. That doesn't mean I don't sometimes react with anger but back then I would react and I wouldn't feel bad about it now if I react I will feel guilty seconds after.