SCHOOL PRINCIPAL FIRES OLD JANITOR AND INSTANTLY REGRETS IT AFTER DISCOVERING HIS WORN WATCH.

— STORY OF THE DAY

When an entitled mother barged into Principal Emma Moore’s office with a list of demands, it seemed like just another battle in her daily fight for fairness. But a cruel comment in the hallway and an old janitor’s worn-out watch would soon force her to confront deeper truths — about the system, her role, and the moral line she had just crossed.

The fluorescent lights above flickered with a low buzz, syncing with the headache pounding behind Emma’s eyes. Her desk was buried in paperwork: budget cuts, teacher evaluations, reports from the district — a fortress of responsibility pressing down on her.

She let out a soft sigh, pressing her fingers to her temples when a sharp knock interrupted the silence.

Without waiting, the door creaked open.

— Good morning, Principal Moore.

Linda Carlisle, the powerful head of the Parent-Teacher Association, entered with the confidence of someone who believed the school belonged to her. Dressed in white with gold buttons and a handbag that probably cost more than the school’s yearly library budget, she dropped a thick folder onto Emma’s desk like a court summons.

— Another list of concerns, mostly from parents who expect a certain standard — considering who their children are.

Emma sat up straighter.

— We all want the best for our students. But this school stands for equal opportunity — for everyone.

Linda’s smile vanished.

— That’s outdated thinking. Some kids will change the world. Others will mop the floors. Prioritize accordingly.

Emma’s voice stayed calm, but firm:

— All of our students deserve the same chances. No exceptions.

Linda’s eyes narrowed.

— You’ll regret being difficult, Emma.

She stormed out, leaving behind the scent of perfume — and entitlement.

Later, needing a moment of peace, Emma walked to the janitor’s room at the end of the hallway. The door was dented and dusty, barely marked “Janitor.” She knocked lightly.

— Principal Moore! — came a warm, cracked voice.

It was Johnny, the school’s longtime janitor. Gray hair beneath an old cap, rough hands holding a chipped mug, and a smile that made her chest loosen.

— Looks like you need some of my terrible tea — he joked.

— Only if it’s made with that rusty kettle of yours — she smiled.

Inside, the room was small, worn, and welcoming. A radio played soft country music. The air smelled like old boots, mint, and something sweet. Emma sat at a tiny wobbly table while Johnny poured hot water into a cup.

— Tough day? — he asked.

— Tough year — she replied.

They sat and sipped quietly. No rush. No decisions. Just a breath of peace.

— When I started here, the pipes froze every winter and a raccoon gave birth in the gym closet. We made it through. You will too — Johnny said gently.

Emma smiled. She didn’t know how she would survive without these small moments.

But the calm shattered as they exited. A group of boys stood by the fountain. One, Trent, spun a basketball and shouted:

— Look at the principal learning how to clean! Hope you’re better with a mop than with math grades!

Emma froze, but Johnny stepped forward.

— You don’t speak to a woman like that, son. Your mother should’ve taught you better.

— Do you know who my mother is? — Trent snapped.

— I do. And you can’t always hide behind her.

The next day, Emma didn’t even hear the door open — she jumped when Linda stormed in.

— My son came home humiliated! That janitor embarrassed him! If he’s not fired today, you will be. I know people, Emma. Don’t test me.

Emma sat in silence for a moment, feeling the weight of everything she stood for.

— I understand — she whispered.

Later, she walked slowly to Johnny’s room. His things were in a half-full box. He had already started packing.

— You’ve heard? — she asked.

He nodded, quietly.

— Linda doesn’t like her son being told the truth — he said simply.

— I’m so sorry — Emma said, her voice cracking.

— You have a school to protect. I’ve had a good run.

She placed a hand on his shoulder.

— You don’t deserve this.

— Rarely do we — he replied.

As she turned to leave, she noticed something shiny on the floor — a scratched old leather watch. On the back, engraved faintly: “Always be true to yourself, EM.”

Her breath caught. She had given him that watch on his first day — twenty years ago. And now, she had just betrayed the very words she engraved.

Tears welled up as she clutched the watch and ran out.

— Johnny! — she called, spotting him near the school gate with his box.

He turned, surprised.

— You forgot this — she said, breathless.

He looked at the watch and smiled sadly.

— That wasn’t my intention.

— I forgot who I was, Johnny — she said, her voice trembling.

— Then remember now.

She nodded.

— Please come back. I’ll face the consequences.

He gave her a knowing look.

— Alright. But you’d better mean it.

The next morning, Emma sat at her desk, the old watch ticking on her wrist like a reminder: Be true.

The door burst open — Linda again, dragging Trent behind her.

— So the janitor’s still here, I see. You’ve made your choice.

Emma stood tall.

— Yes. And today I say goodbye.

— Good. You won’t regret it.

Emma turned to Trent.

— Goodbye, Trent. You’re expelled.

— What?! You can’t do that!

— This school doesn’t tolerate cruelty. You crossed a line.

— You’ll pay for this — Linda hissed.

Emma raised her hand calmly.

— Let them come. I’m not bending anymore.

She looked at the old watch on her wrist, glinting in the light.

— I’d rather lose my job than lose myself.

Linda stormed out, heels echoing like firecrackers. Trent followed.

Moments later, Johnny peeked in.

— Well, that went smoother than I expected.

Emma laughed through tears.

— We’ve got a roof to fix and a garden to plant.

— And tea to make.

And together they walked down the hallway — principal and janitor — side by side, standing tall, knowing they had done the right thing.