Here’s the third essay on good citizenship I wrote for Principal Salvatore:
My sister, Amelia, reads lots of books. Not just the ones she has to read for school.
She takes books out of the library on Union Street and reads them just because that’s what she likes to do. Last week, she finished a book called Love Story. It made her cry her eyes out at the end, and when I asked her why she was crying, she said, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” I think good citizenship is the exact opposite of love. It means saying you’re sorry for stuff you didn’t do. So I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I hope that makes me a good citizen.
As usual, I slid the paper under the door of Principal Salvatore’s office as soon as I got to school, and as usual, Miss Medina handed it back to me an hour later. Principal Salvatore had written on the back:
I’m sorry, try again.