A. A Good title for this story would be: Mr. Elmo Norman, my elementary school principal, was the most nervous man I have ever met. He was a short, pudgy
man, always over-dressed. In fact, he didn't just wear his clothes--he hid inside them. His uniform consisted of a neatly
pressed pin-striped suit, a thin black tie over a starched white shirt, and a pair of brightly polished brown Oxfords. His
receding gray hair was always neatly trimmed, and his fat, wrinkled head always darted about like a radar blip on his
neck. He paced the school hallways in a perpetual motion of twitching, fidgeting, and twiddling. In the space of a minute,
he would wrinkle his little nose, scratch his plump chin, shrug his shoulders, straighten his tie, and glance at his watch,
never once looking directly at the person he was with. As he spoke in his lackadaisical drawl, he would glance at the
ceiling, inspect his knuckles, and check the floorboards for dust. When the conversation was over, he would dash back
into his office like a frightened bunny, probably praying that he could lock himself in there forever. And for all I know, he
may still be hiding there in his office today.