A Most Unusual Passage
Copyright© 2026 by J&J
Chapter 36
Without looking back, I walked on towards the school. I heard Jennifer’s footsteps behind me, and her breathless voice, “Hold up, Elizabeth; I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I stopped and turned around. “Who are you? I don’t know you. My friend Jennifer wouldn’t choose relationships based on stock portfolios and credit scores. I’m not even sure that’s marriage; it sounds more like some kind of long-term prostitution. My career is very real to me, and I plan to make my own way. And if that means I have to do my own dishes instead of spending my time at the Country Club, flirting with the tennis pro and talking to people whose work ethic is avoiding work, then that’s fine by me.”
“Please, Elizabeth,” she begged. “Let’s not fight. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you, and it will be a long time before I see you again, and I don’t want to spend the time fighting.”
“I don’t either,” I said. “But you’ve changed.”
“Have I, or have you? Tell me, Elizabeth, do you think Ted changed?”
“No,” I laughed. “It was Ted’s greatest strength and weakness that he was probably incapable of real change.”
“Exactly,” she said. “And yet, the kind of marriage that you find so objectionable now is exactly the kind of marriage Ted always wanted.”
“Which is why I broke off the engagement.”
“My point is, you were engaged to Ted for several years,” she said. “So you must the found the idea acceptable until recently. It always seemed all right to Ted and me. But a few months ago, you decided it was not right for you. And now, you find the whole concept quite outrageous. So I ask again, Elizabeth, who changed?”
Her words stopped me in my tracks, and I thought about what she had said. There was no fault in her logic. Her conclusion was inescapable. Jennifer had not suddenly become some shallow, mercenary creature; Jennifer was probably not very different from the person I had known in college. The fact that we’re now so far apart apparently is the result of change on my part, not hers.
“You’re right Jennifer,” I said. “I’m sorry; it’s me; I’m the one who has changed. I really can’t blame you for not knowing about it. I can honestly say I didn’t realize it myself.”
“Well, I guess we’ll just avoid those topics for now. C’mon, show me your school.”
In fact, we were coming up the slight rising curve to the school building at that very moment “Well, here it is,” I said. “Smaller than you expected, isn’t it?”
“Well, honestly, yes,” Jennifer said hesitantly, as though expecting me to get angry.
“It’s all right; I’ll give you this one. I reacted the same way myself. Now for the rest of it. The total enrollment is 83 students.” I waited while she did the expected double-take.
Then I paused before dropping the other shoe, “And this is a combined junior and senior high school.”
Jennifer looked as though she would like to say something but was holding back, probably in order not to anger me
I enjoyed her twisting in the wind for a few minutes, before I let her off the hook. “Take a free shot, Jennifer; there is nothing you’re going to say that I didn’t say the evening I found out how small the school was.”
“You mean to tell me you did not know how small the school was before you got here?” she asked incredulously.
“I knew that it was small, but I had no idea how small. I took small to mean 200 or so; I didn’t know there were schools with only 83 students. It really put me off at first; I mean, to be principal at so small a school. But I came to find out that being principal at this small school can mean a lot more responsibility than being principal at a much larger school back home.”
“How exactly do you figure that? I was about to ask if experience at small school would actually count professionally.”
“Marcus explained it to me, but I’ve now experienced it for myself. If you’re the principal at a very large school, how many students do you know personally?”
“Not that many,” she replied. “You always know the student leaders, the brown noses and the super volunteers. And on the flip side, you have the troublemakers, the kids who spend more time in the office than the principal.”
“Exactly,” I said. “In a general way, the principal is responsible for all of the students. Here, there’s nothing general about it. The principal is responsible for the education and the development of all 83 students, right down to signing each and every report card. If a student is having behavior problems at school, the principal is the one to deal with it.”
“How do you feel about that style of principal?” Jennifer seemed really interested now. “It’s not what you’re used to or what you were trained for.”
“I’ve only had a taste, you understand, and I won’t pretend I haven’t made some mistakes. But Jennifer, I really love it. You can make such a difference. Let me show you something.”
I reached in my purse, pulled out the creamy white envelope and handed it to her. She opened it and read Sylvia’s wonderful thank-you poem.
“It is beautiful, especially if a student did it. But the words make me think there’s a story behind this poem.”
“There is,” I said. “I believe that just possibly, I may have saved the life of this truly remarkable young lady, and I certainly helped save her from being buried here in miserable obscurity. The poem was her way of thanking me. What wall full of certificates or case full of trophies could ever equal something like this?”
Jennifer looked at me in genuine surprise. “So!” Her voice sounded almost accusing. “You really have decided to stay here. It’s a done deal.”
I could not help laughing at her shocked expression. “No, Jennifer, it’s not a done deal. I will do the year I contracted for, and I plan to make the most of it. I haven’t really thought about staying after that. I would have to say it’s pretty unlikely.”
“For a minute there, I was afraid you had the taken total leave of your senses.”
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