Headmaster's Dinner

Being alone is the most awful situation one can possibly be in, I tell you. As if it was not enough to be the only one not surrounded by parents and crazy knitter aunts, they even refused to let me find a place for myself to sit by politely saying “That’s my daughter’s seat.” I hate to imagine what would have happened if I did not arrive fairly timely and managed to steal myself a chair to join a group of other girls of the same circumstances. There were about two of those tables. We familyless peeps occupied two big tables and quietly finished eating before any event had even started. The guests were busy walking about getting food and socializing with their children’s teachers, with that dreaded hypocritical smile on their faces. It was a disgustingly transparent sight to watch. What made it worse was that everyone in the room was a highly motivated parent of elite students. What a dreadful sight! The level of my depression had ascended that I could stand up and yell at all of them. My facial expression must have exposed the state of my mind, but it was exactly the point. I wanted them to see me and realize what appalling hypocrisy they were committing. Even our location was a depressing one. The table was located right outside the door that separates the banquet room and the dining hall. It gave an impression that we were trying to blend into the banquet room, but weren’t accepted and had to stay outside. It is quite true, I must say. The headmaster did not even go outside the door: he had to socialize. I was expecting all this. What other event would be such a great chance to make the headmaster write your child’s college recommendation or get your unqualified child into the National Honor Society? I highly doubt that this will work, though. Their meaningless attempts were such filthy ones, but I simply did not want to go to the Grill and have leftover hamburger from lunch. Oh yes, food does speak.