Watch Us Rise(37)

blackdreamer212 liked this

hudsondreamer commented: this post is as ignorant as this blog.

daisymae commented: and again—who cares!? no one’s gnna watch this girl on stage anywy! who’s gnna cast hr?

harlemchick commented: seems like YOU care since you keep commenting. I G N O R A N T!

chrometilt commented: some girls just need to shut the hell up! like this dumb-ass blog.

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I’ve rehearsed with Chelsea ten times how to apologize to Principal Hayes. We have it all planned out and go over it an eleventh time on our way to his office.

“Got it,” Chelsea says. “I’m sorry if I was disrespectful, but I do believe our school has some issues that need to be addressed,” she repeats.

“Perfect,” I tell her.

When Chelsea and I get to Principal Hayes’s office, he is sitting at his messy desk, which is cluttered with file folders, books, pens, and Post-it Notes. His tie is loosened, and he’s leaning so far back in his office chair that it looks like he could fall out of it. He’s swiveling from side to side until he sees me and Chelsea walking in. “Ladies,” he says. “Come on in. Have a seat.” Principal Hayes stands and walks around his desk, joining us in the section of his office that has four chairs around a small coffee table. “I’m glad we could talk,” he tells us.

Like we had a choice to come here. We should be eating lunch right now, but during first period we both got a notice from the office saying we needed to come see him at lunchtime.

Chelsea and I sit down beside each other. Principal Hayes sits across from us. “So, I wanted to follow up with your, uh, concerns, Chelsea. I am sorry you feel that this school—”

“I don’t feel it, I know that this school has some racist teachers and that it was unfair—”

I pinch Chelsea, clear my throat.

She talks quieter but finishes her sentence. “I think our school doesn’t actually live up to its mission, and we should do something about it.”

“I appreciate your zeal, I do. But you have to understand that you can’t just make accusations about staff here and think I’m immediately going to fire someone. It doesn’t work like that, Chelsea. And that’s not actually what I want to talk with you about.”

“Of course it’s not,” Chelsea says.

“Consider this your official warning. Your club will be shut down if you continue to incite discord throughout the student body.”

I lean forward. “What do you mean ‘incite discord’? It’s not our fault people showed up to the dance dressed up in offensive costumes.”

“Well, now, perhaps you are not fully responsible for it, but your blog is stepping outside the lines of the parameters set for school blogs,” Principal Hayes says. “I mean, take a look at the other Amsterdam Heights blogs—they mention upcoming events, they share club photos from field trips. You two are being instigators—”

Chelsea interrupts. “You mean we’re encouraging discussion and dialogue.”

“No, I mean you’re curating a space that encourages people to be disrespectful. Why didn’t you report the inappropriate comments on the blog to your advisor?”

Chelsea answers, “We just—I wasn’t checking the comments. I had no idea people were responding that way. But still—we couldn’t have known all of this would happen.”

I add, “Principal Hayes, we can change the settings. We can make it so no one can leave comments.”

Principal Hayes considers this. He leans back in his chair, turns from side to side.

Then he stops and says, “Girls, the comments are not the only issue. It’s some of the actual posts I have a problem with.” He looks at me.

My chest rises, and my palms get sweaty. “What was wrong with my post?”

“You said derogatory things about a teacher. Students showed up to the dance in direct response to your post. We can’t have you two inciting these kinds of incidents. This school cannot be seen as a place—”

“Are you telling me that because I gave information—truthful information—about a personal experience I had and because I shared the history behind why that experience was so painful, I am in trouble?” Now my voice is rising, and Chelsea is the one nudging me in my side.

“I am telling you that my expectation is for you to be respectful of this school and its staff and monitor student comments. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” we say in unison again.

“Consider this your warning. If there’s another incident because of your blog, I’ll shut it all down. You’re dismissed,” he says.

Chelsea opens her mouth to argue, but I stop her. On our way down the hall to the cafeteria, she says, “I just want him to admit that we didn’t instigate anything.”

“It’s fine, Chels. It’s only a warning. I wanted to leave it at that before he changed his mind.”

“Humph,” Chelsea says. “If he thinks our blog is starting something at this school, wait till he sees what we post next.”

“Um, Chelsea, let’s—let’s not push it. We have to be smart. Strategic. Let’s post something less controversial but still in line with our club’s mission.”