F'art class

 "Why did you bring this to school?"

The kid shifted around on the hard chair in the principal's office. He looked at the floor, and did not answer the question.
"Do you know what this thing can do? You can injure someone with it, put out an eye, and leave someone blinded for life. People have been killed with these things."
The kid continued to stare at the floor. "I wasn't going to hurt anyone with it, I just wanted to make a picture."
"You have your pad for that. All you have to do is tell it what you want to see, and it makes it perfect for you. Did you think you could do better?"
The kid felt a spark of anger, and looked up at the principal holding the sharpened rod in her fist. "All the kids have perfect pad pictures of perfect dogs and cats," he said. "I wanted one that I made myself. I don't care if it isn't perfect."
The principal replied, "You can do that at home on your own time. Here at school we do things the right way, so no one gets hurt. What if your picture was better than someone else's? They'd feel bad about themselves, and it would be your fault. You don't want your friends to feel bad, do you?"
The kid's spark of anger kindled into a flame. "I don't have any friends here, and I don't care if the other kids feel bad. I can make my own dogs and cats, or whatever. I don't care. I don't care who likes them or not."
"You don't care?" The principal had her victory. "People who don't care about others are not nice people, are they? I think maybe you need some time out so you can think about what you just said. I'm suspending you from school for a week."
That flame of anger became a light in the kid's gut. "Good!" he shouted. I hate this place anyway. Make it two weeks. And give me back my damn pencil."