If Kafka were a middle-schooler today, this is the nightmare novel he would have written. At a meeting two days later with my husband, Sam, and me, the adminis

If Kafka were a middle-schooler today, this is the nightmare novel he would have written. At a meeting two days later with my husband, Sam, and me, the administrator piled more accusations on top of the harassment charge—even implying, with undisguised hostility, that Sam and his friend were gay. He waved in front of us a statement from the girl at the table and insisted that Sam would need to defend himself against her claims if he wanted to prove his innocence. But the administrator refused to reveal the particulars of the complaint (he had also blacked out identifying details, FBI-style) and then hid the paperwork under a book.