The Headmaster

“It had to be asked,” I said to myself.  “No one else was going to confront him.  Everyone else is too scared.” 

I got up off the unadorned chair and started pacing back and forth in the classroom.  Had I made a mistake?  Had I gone too far?  I had just confronted my professor.  Or at least that’s what he said.  All I had done was ask a question he didn’t like. 

It was a religion class and all I had asked was how he could prove God was real because I was beginning to have my doubts.  Now, the whole class had been dismissed and everything was so quiet, you would have thought a bomb had gone off.  I guess for an ultra conservative high school, what I asked was not an appropriate question.  But I just couldn’t seem to help myself. 

Now I was waiting for the headmaster and my professor to come back.  That was another thing that boggled my mind – we were in high school and we had to call our teachers ‘Professor’.  And if we didn’t agree with everything they said, we would be forced into meetings with the headmaster.  I had been having my doubts about God for years and the more everyone around me talked, the more I didn’t believe. 

The headmaster walked in and immediately started shaking his head.  As my father, he had heard many of these same questions at home.  I just hoped I wouldn’t get in too much trouble. 


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