The Principal’s Unprincipled Principle

Countermandering the rule was easy.

Normally, when Mr. Powell tapped the microphone to the PA system, students tuned out. After all, any mundane rule handed down from the Principal’s Office was just that.

Today, however, Jack Powell, wanting to win the award for the Most Progressive Principal in the State, had an important announcement that was worthy of the students’ attention. He turned the microphone on and pressed a front desk bell to capture their attention.

“Attention Students and Faculty. Attention Students and Faculty. This is your Principal, Dr. Powell,” He cleared his throat.

“It has come to my attention recently of an increased usage of marijuana in our illustrious school. This will not be tolerated on the campus of South High, absolutely not tolerated if you are caught, you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Period. However, as one of the more progressive schools in the City, the administration here at South High recognizes that we are not able to stop everybody who want to smoke weed. It’s just not possible. Therefore, I am officially designating the exit area between the old and new buildings to be the Designated Marijuana Smoking zone in this school. We don’t condone, encourage, or permit the smoking of marijuana on school premises, but if you’re going to do it, that area is the Designated Marijuana Smoking Zone. That is all.”

Chet Layton looked around at his students, closed his eyes and shook his head. They chuckled for they knew the dilemma Mr. Layton now faced.

“I know what you just heard and I myself don’t believe it, but here’s the rule I’m laying down for class. Outside those glass windows is the shop. In the shop are dangerous tools. If I suspect that any of you has been smoking marijuana prior to this class or any of my classes, you will not go near any of my power tools. Is that understood?”

A few in the class murmured a weak, “Yeah, sure.”

Layton held up his right hand. His pinky and ring fingers were completely missing.

He took a deep breath and said, “You see, this is what happens when you mix pot and power tools. Sixteen years old when it happened. Now, do you understand why my directive supersedes Dr. Progressive Powell’s? If you don’t understand, then you probably shouldn’t be in my class. Now, I have ways to know if you’ve been toking prior to class because remember, I was your age once, so please don’t force the issue. If you want to kill brain cells, do it after my class and preferably after school. Even more preferable is after you graduate. Questions?”