June 8, 2016:

I had a counselor. Who knew? We met for the first time when I was being informed my services were no longer required.

She was very angry. Cold. As though she had been injured. I asked, reasonably enough, "Why was I not informed that credits are needed for graduation?", and also that they were not being earned in Independent Study? She said contemptuously: "We're not used to Independent Study students failing classes." You'd think in that case there'd be some discussion of exactly what the reasons were behind that particular F, a grade which was unjust and absurd, or maybe demented is a more reasonable word. I was the best in the class, scored 100% on 100% of the tests and quizzes, and demonstrated the labs to the others. The proper grade was A+. My counselor asked about none of this and I didn't try to educate her. She had a different agenda.

Some of the students loved her. I'm sure. Pets. Good girls. And I expect she had a certain hormonal impetus for befriending teenage girls. We had that much in common.

I could have sued. I let it go. I was glad to be freed. It was a release and a relief. I wish it had happened two years before.