I was summoned to the high school the other day to meet with the principal about one of my girls. Just the call every parent wants, right? Thankfully it was about my easy one so I was hopeful it was about her getting an award rather then me having to sign something detailing what a bad parent I am. (You don’t think they have those forms, but they do.)
Being the uninvolved parent I am, it had been a while since I’d been at the school and despite my kids mentioning that they had a new principal, nothing prepared me for what I was about to come face to face with.
To give some context here, my kids go to a full on uniform wearing, Catholic school. Although we are as far from Catholic as it gets. I believe I check off the box that says “heathen,” when the census makes it way around. I mention this because, in general, Catholic school principals can be umm…a little…what’s the word I’m looking for here…oh ya…uptight.
Anyway, I showed up at the school, late and distracted as usual, only to be met by an extremely tall, attractive man, with a voice like butter and a smile that would make an eighty-year-old nun tremble.
And rather predictably I made an ass of myself.
For example, I am 103% sure that I held his hand WAY too long when I shook it. And when he asked me my first name I know I mumbled something incoherent which was possibly followed by an “I love you.” Mercifully he didn’t seem to notice and/or chose to ignore my profession of adoration while continuing to be charming and polite as he ushered me into a classroom to discuss my child. And that’s where things got weird.
Instead of sitting down to talk, we stood.
Now perhaps it was just me or maybe it was the weird perspective I had from the incredible height difference between us (he was at least a foot taller then I am) but it kinda felt like he was standing a little too close.
Of course those who know me would counter that I have a ridiculously large personal bubble and can be heard threatening to stab anyone who enters into it. But I think the North American social norm for being too close for a conversation is pretty standard. If I can smell your breath, you’re too close.
Did I address it? Fuck no. Avoidance and awkwardness are my social calling card. Nope. Nope. Nope. I just inhaled Principal Handsome’s pleasant, minty breath and craned my neck to look waaaay up at him while indiscreetly taking small steps backwards until I backed into a desk. (In retrospect I believe there is a 113% chance he thought I had vertigo or was inebriated. My money’s on drunk.)
So what’s the point of me sharing this story other then to highlight my inability to handle social situations? It’s to make this point. School principals shouldn’t be allowed to be attractive. No wait that’s “lookism,” and very unfair to highly attractive people who already have it so hard in the world. Sorry good looking people, I am obviously a terrible person.
Okay, maybe it’s that people should have to wear hula hoops around their waists to enforce personal space. Na, that has all kinds of logistical issues. What if people choose different sized hula hoops? That’s just a shit show waiting to happen.
Wait. I think I got it. The take away from this is that I should limit all my social interactions to text and email. Yup that’s it. That’s the lesson. That’s the moral of this sordid tale. (Phefff. Pulled that one out of the fire.)
Oh and the reason they called about my kid? They want to send her to some kind of leadership conference, but she’s not sure she wants to go. Something about anxiety and feeling out of place. Ah yes, clearly I am the parent to help her out with that.