Late Tuesday night I realized that Brandi had not brought me her make-up work. I emailed Miss Sit-On-It-And-Twist asking (literally) what was up. I heard nothing.
On Wednesday the principal came to my room—a rare occurrence—to find out what had become of her. I said I had heard nothing. Upon checking my school mailbox, however, I found a stack of work from her. I was incredulous: after all this, the girl didn't even have the gall to bring it to me face-to-face? (I had been in my room NOT teaching all morning.) I relayed this information to the principal and asked him to send her to me if he saw her before I did.
Sure enough, Brandi paraded into my room this morning. There were other seniors already in my classroom who had come to ask me to sign their yearbooks; Brandi jovially chatted with her friend while I finished my autographs. Once the others had moved on, her friend took the same cue and left.
Brandi immediately apologized for not having brought her work in on Tuesday. I expressed my concern not that the work was late—er, later—but that she had dropped it in my box when I could be easily found. Again the jocular demeanor faded and she said, "I put it in your box because I didn't want to tell you why I didn't bring it on Tuesday."
I replied, "but you'll tell me now?"
Brandi said she had to walk from the Community College—where she takes afternoon classes to get a jump on credits—back to our high school because she was stranded without a ride. The two schools are in different zip codes.
I of course told her that she could have called the school and someone (even myself) would have picked her up. Or called a cab. Or something.
I suppose you're wondering how Brandi fared? With the work she submitted, her average came to 59.5%, which, rounded to 60%, is the lowest possible passing grade.
Brandi thanked me—sincerely, I hope—and said she'd see me at graduation. That I will.
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