Smart, Charming, and Crazy

My vice-principal is smart, charming and crazy. She’s pretty in that southern big haired sort of way. I have on any number of occasions found her helpful and insightful. Those would be the times I don’t want to strangle her.

I am no diagnostician, but I believe her to be both narcissistic and borderline. She had a couple of bad falls, which, sadly, left her slightly brain damaged. The problem is, as a colleague says, “Some days it’s like talking to an acid freak.”

Take, for example, yesterday afternoon when I went to a meeting, called by her, about nothing. During the meeting, we were presented with nothing, decided to do nothing, discussed nothing, agreed to nothing and resolved nothing. We soon will have another meeting about nothing. Today, I got a memo from her about nothing.

Immediately after school yesterday, the vice-principal called a meeting of the department. She was panicked. She needed a book count, immediately as in right now, as in she doesn’t care how late we stay. We told her that we had completed this count at the end of last year. Nothing has changed: it’s only the second week of school. She then rambled on about a program, which we all hate, which she knows we hate, which she thinks we should do, and which none of us volunteered to do. We concluded by agreeing to, in the future, discuss all these matters again.

This morning, I got a memo from the vice-principal. I was reminded to count my books.

Later in the morning, my vice-principal comes up to me and says, “Someone is standing in your way.” Then she just walks off.

So I say, ‘What?! Hold it. Come here. What and who are you talking about?’

She leans in close to me, and whispers, “You said her name last year.” Then walks off.

Leaving me to wonder. Someone is standing in my way to — What? My retirement? That’s my next career move. As to the identity of “her”, I’m forced to ponder all the female names I said last year.

Filed under: Prose, Publius