No-Nonsense

I admire no-nonsense people. Those down-to-earth individuals who are nearly always on time. They don’t make excuses and they don’t like it when other people make them either. I’m not one of those people myself but I appreciate the way God made them.

The office manager at my high school was a no-nonsense type. Although Mrs. Grant was not a tall woman, she had a way of making students feel they were shrinking under her unwavering stare as they offered their excuses for being late to school. Many a student found their words dwindle to nothing as they stood before that steady gaze of hers. Everyone knew there was no point in arguing their case once she’d handed them a detention slip. I can’t imagine that anyone ever tried to defy her. I never heard of it if they did. She didn’t use a lot of words either. She just had a way about her—an undefinable power to command respect.

I remember the first time I was the nervous recipient of Mrs. Grant’s unwavering stare. I was late to school. 

“Do you have a note?” Mrs. Grant asked.

“No, ma’am. My parents are both at work. I overslept. A lot.” 

Mrs. Grant stared at me with an unreadable expression. She looked back at the clock on the wall and then again at me. After what felt like a long time she said, “Amy, are you telling me you overslept SIX hours? It’s 2:00 in the afternoon. The school day is almost over.”

“I know—I’m so, so sorry, Mrs. Grant. I accidentally turned off my alarm and then didn’t even stir until 1:30. Not even one stir. I got ready as fast as I could and I know it’s really, really late and you’ll have to give me a detention slip. I just thought it would be better to come six hours late instead of not at all.”

There was a slight shift in Mrs. Grant’s expression. So slight that I can’t tell you exactly what changed. She might have been amused. 

“Go to class,” she said. 

“Oh—thank you Mrs. Grant. And sorry about being so late. It won’t happen again.”

I never did oversleep by six hours again, but I did come in a couple hours late for circumstances beyond my control some months later. This time I had a note.

“This note says your dog wouldn’t get out of your car,” said Mrs. Grant, eyeing the slip of paper my mom had hurriedly written on. 

“Yes, ma’am. Except it wasn’t my dog.” I explained. “I don’t know whose dog it was.”

Mrs. Grant raised her eyebrows. 

“I opened the door to my car and this huge dog I’ve never seen before jumped in and wouldn’t move. I tried everything! I tried pulling him while my mom pushed him and I tried pushing him while my mom pulled him. He was friendly but he wouldn’t budge. He was sort of suctioned to the floor of the car. We coaxed him out with food but he jumped right back in before I could close the door. It took us forever to get him out. So that’s why I’m so late. I’m really sorry. You can give me a detention if you want. I can’t be sure it’ll never happen again since I don’t know where he came from. He might come back.”

Mrs. Grant ’s eyes twinkled a little as she said, “Just go to class.”

“Thanks so much, Mrs. Grant. Sorry about the random dog. I’ll try to keep him out of my car in the future.”

My next experience with Mrs. Grant came later in the year. I was in study hall and wasn’t feeling my best. I whispered to the girl who was sitting behind me, “Do you have any Tylenol?” 

Before she could answer, Coach Ricks called my name. “Amy, go get a detention from Mrs. Grant.” 

“But I was just—” 

“I don’t care what you were just—. Get up right now and get a detention from Mrs. Grant for talking during study hall.” Coach Ricks smiled. He was that kind of study hall monitor. He thoroughly enjoyed his job…

Mrs. Grant looked up as I walked into the office. 

“Hi Mrs. Grant. Could you please give me a detention?” 

“Could I please give you a detention?” Mrs. Grant repeated, staring me down. 

I smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Coach Ricks asked me to come get a detention from you for talking during study hall.”

There was a pause.

“No,” she said flatly.

“No, you won’t give me a detention?” I asked, confused. “Coach Ricks said—“

“You tell Coach Ricks I said ‘No.’ I don’t give out detentions to students who come into the office, smile at me and politely ask, ‘May I please have a detention?’”

“Oh—okay. In that case, thanks so much, Mrs. Grant. I’ll let him know.”

I didn’t get a detention that day. Even Coach Ricks didn’t dare talk back to Mrs. Grant. 

By the end of high school I could honestly say Mrs. Grant was one of my favorite people there. And I found I wasn’t alone in that opinion either. A lot of people had come to appreciate her no-nonsense personality, the subtle laughter that twinkled in her eyes even when she wasn’t necessarily smiling, and her ability to discern a situation and make an unwavering judgement call. Pretty amazing.

God has made us all so interestingly different. I’m thankful for that, aren’t you?

~Amy