Polite. The kind of kid teachers barely notice because he never caused trouble. Today he seemed folded inward, as if trying to disappear.

I pulled a chair across from him and kept my voice gentle. “What’s going on, man?”

Silence. I leaned forward a little. “You know the rule. I just need to know why you’re keeping it on today.”

Finally, in a voice so soft it could almost have gone unheard, he said, “They laughed at me.”

“Who did?” I asked.

“Everyone,” he muttered, his lip trembling. “At lunch… they said my head looked like it got run over by a lawnmower.”

I softened my tone. “Can I see?”

He hesitated, then slowly lifted the hat—like peeling off armor. His hair was a patchwork of jagged, uneven stubble and bare spots. Whoever had tried to fix it had clearly given up.

I could’ve followed policy