I had never gotten an F in English in my life.I didn’t know whether to be ashamed or angry.
Slowly the teacher lowered the paper and ran her finger over the F. “I hate to fail anybody,” she said, with a dramatic sigh. “I’m going to give you a second chance.” She looked at me as if expecting to see relief and gratitude instead of my stunned face. “I will give you a second assignment that will count in place of this one, but you have to stay late for tutoring with me three days a week. I will write a note to your parents.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was walking out of the school on my way home with her note in my hand. The world looked like a dismal place. I could almost see big, red F’s and the teacher’s phony smile everywhere I looked.
“Your paper was that bad, huh?”