Read One More Thing: Stories and Other Stories for Free Online Page B

just go to this website called Missed Connections and type in
red shirt
. Don’t put it in quotes, because some people might say “red T shirt” without a hyphen, and some others might spell it
t-e-e
or some other little variation. There’s no one right way to spell “T-shirt.” Isn’t that interesting? So anyway, just type
red shirt
. Itwill take a little bit of extra time, but that way you’ll be sure not to miss anything.
    Then you get to see who liked you. More important:
who liked you for you
. Not you changing your behavior to impress anyone or please anyone. Not you on “date behavior.” Just you being you. And anyone will tell you that’s the whole point. You want to meet someone who likes the same things you do, and who likes you most when you’re most being yourself, so that when you are in a relationship, the person will truly be compatible with the real you.
    That’s all you have to do.
    It really is that simple.
    Now: when someone does contact you, and it seems like it might be a match, should you wear another shirt on the date besides the red T-shirt, so it doesn’t seem like you only have one shirt? Or should you wear the red T-shirt as always, in case the first date doesn’t go well and you want a simple way to check if you caught anyone else’s interest while you were out on the date?
    That is a very interesting question, and one that I think about a lot. I will let you know what I do when that comes up.

’Rithmetic
    The principal called everyone into the auditorium. Everyone K–8. The teachers and the students. Everyone. Not janitors.
    “Everybody, I want you to quiet down and turn off your phones,” he said. People weren’t much quieter. “Nothing I say leaves this room. And if you tell anyone I said this, I’ll deny it.” They still weren’t totally quiet, but quiet enough for him to start.
    “Does anybody
hate school
?” No one raised a hand, and whispered laughter again bubbled to the surface of the room.
    The principal made an angry face, the kind of angry face people don’t fake. “Oh, bullshit! You all hate school!”
    Now they were quiet.
    The principal walked up to a whiteboard with three words on it.
    “They say school teaches three things,” said the principal, pointing with his permanent marker. “Reading, Writing, and ’Rithmetic—short for ‘arithmetic.’ Which is something, of course, that you know from ‘Reading.’ ” He put his Sharpie at the beginning of the third word. “I think the problem,” he said, squeaking a line through it, “is ’Rithmetic.
    “What’s the difference between this school and a happy retirement community?”
    The room was silent again.
    “The difference is ’rithmetic! A retired person living by the ocean, just doing a little reading and writing till the end of their days—that’s the dream, right? ‘What do you do all day?’ ‘Some reading, a little writing.’ Sounds idyllic, right? And yet school
sucks
. Everybody hates it. What’s the difference? ’Rithmetic! It’s time somebody put their finger on this fucking obvious thing. And I’m the principal, so I’m that person, and I’m going to abolish it. Now,” he said, looking for a glass of water to sip from and finding none, “now, are you going to be unprepared for some aspects of life? Probably. Yes. But you know what? You will have phones with calculators on them. You will have friends who can do math. My mom, God bless her—I love my mom, and she still doesn’t know whether a third of a cup of flour is bigger than a fourth of a cup. You know what she does? Is anybody here honestly wondering, Oh my God, how the hell does anything get baked?! Of course not, and you’re right not to worry. She asks my dad—he knows. Or these days, you ask Google or whatever you use nowadays; you find out in two seconds. And also, it’s the kind of thing you just pick up. Let’s say you’re working at a restaurant, and they offer you a ten percent raise. You’ll