And I Kept On Falling

The school was supposed to solve things.

The thought process was as follows: since we can’t be everywhere at once and spreading our word in writing has not worked before, why not build a place that invites all those interested to come learn friendship?

It was a sound idea. A good idea. The girls agreed. Spike agreed. Celestia agreed. Heck, my pitch was so good even Chancellor Neighsay of the EEA agreed, however reluctantly.

Did you not learn your lesson the first time? Your loved ones’ approvals are the only ones that matter. You never should’ve bothered with the EEA to begin with.

And then, in my desperate attempt to gain approval and do something right, I lost myself. Again. Didn’t listen to my friends. Made my new students despise their classes. Upset the world leaders and nearly launched a six-way war.

I was so focused on the little details - the trivial matters - that I completely lost sight of why we were doing this.

The Chancellor forcibly closing the school was the breaking point, I suppose.

“The school was disorganized, the teachers unqualified!”

He was right - the school was a disaster. Not because the rules didn’t work, but because I insisted on making them work for us. Our school was a brand-new concept; pre-existing guidelines were never going to work, and I failed to understand that.

Thankfully, Starlight was there to help me see things clearly. She was there to help me redefine what the school was for. She pulled me out of my stupor and supported me even though I broke her trust time and time again.

You don’t deserve her.

And once again, my insistence on getting something right - not entirely sure what ‘right’ even is anymore - only led to misery. Equestria’s allies nearly declared war on us and on each other. My friends were stuck in a monotonous and tense teaching environment. The students, who traveled so far to learn from us, only found themselves thoroughly disappointed.

With a principal like you, of course this was going to happen.

Fear not - the school remained open! Lesson learned: since friendship is a completely new concept to be taught, it required a unique approach.

I wish I could say things were smooth sailing from here, but alas, they were not.

My useless hero worship flared up at a tremendously bad time, and instead of giving Celestia the most memorable play of her life, I insulted her and drove her to tears.

“In all the time we’ve known each other, I thought I taught you about the importance of friendship, trust, and honesty!”

How long before you realize that she’s not some sort of tyrant? That she’s not going to explode at the littlest slight? How long?

I picked the worst two teachers possible for an out-of-class activity. Even after AJ and Dash demonstrated that they could not be trusted to lead together, I still allowed them to move forward. The result? One of my students nearly drowned.

Some principal you are. Can’t even protect the children under your care.

My pursuit to teach friendship far and wide almost damaged some of the very first friendships I had in Ponyville. How long have I known the Crusaders? Years. I should’ve known they wouldn’t stoop as low as sabotage to achieve their goals. I should've known that. Girls, I'm so sorry.

“We didn’t do anything wrong! We promise!”

Those three look up to you. They admire you. And this is how you thank them!?

And apparently, I’m still prone to fits of jealousy! Unable to stand the fact that Star Swirl chose Flim and Flam’s school over mine, I proceeded to do something rash. Something I’ve learned over a dozen times by now: don’t accuse anypony of wrongdoing without concrete evidence. I allowed the brothers to get the better of me. I allowed Neighsay to get the better of me. In doing so, I disappointed Star Swirl and my reputation was nearly torn to shreds. I thought jealousy was behind me, but apparently, that’s not the case.

“Oh, honestly, Princess Twilight, envy does not look good on you.”

Getting blackmailed? Really? You’re royalty. If you had even a sliver of a backbone, they never would’ve gotten this far. You’ve gone soft. Pathetic.

In the process of juggling all the new responsibilities that come with being a principal, I failed to notice the snake in our midst.

She was under my care. She was my student. She was my friend. Cozy Glow wasn’t some unknown monster or faceless villain that appeared out of nowhere; she was somepony I’d trusted. The school’s model student and my right-wing pony.

We taught her the values of friendship. We gave her a home here at the school. We showed her kindness and love and trust. And how does she thank us? By imprisoning us in Tartarus and attempting to take over our school.

That little backstabber took what we taught her and turned on everyone. She played us all like pawns on a chessboard. She looked at us with those bright, innocent eyes of hers and fooled us with her honeyed words. Lied to us, manipulated us and circumstances to fit her agenda, stole from under our muzzles, and nearly caused the end of our world as we know it.

We fell for her deception. I fell for her deception.

What does that say about my ability to protect my students? My ability to run a school? If I can’t discern the fake from the genuine, then how will I protect the school from harm? If villains are able to worm their way into our lives, then how can I trust anyone?

More than that - if Cozy was right there, under my care, under my guidance, and I failed to teach her, then what does that say about my ability to teach friendship? Am I fit to be the Headmare of the School of Friendship if I can’t teach the subject to the pony who needs it the most? Can I even call myself the Princess of Friendship anymore?

No, you can’t. Glad you’re finally recognizing what a failure you are.

“You might be the Princess of Friendship, but as headmare of this school, I can collect even more friends than you!”

As if fate itself wasn’t already telling me how bad of a principal I was.

A child - megalomaniac though she might be - came to my school to willingly learn about friendship and its benefits. She came to us - to me. And I failed her. I failed so horribly that Cozy only understood the ‘power’ aspect of the ‘power of friendship’.

I was so trusting, so naive, that I didn’t notice when the artifacts changed locations. Couldn’t recognize that Cozy was faking her ignorance. Didn’t realize that my girls and I were being deliberately lured away from the real danger.

This blindness nearly destroyed everything. We came perilously close to losing it all.

So close.

You don’t deserve this school. You don’t deserve the trust and faith your students are foolishly giving you.

The school was supposed to solve things. It was a sound idea; a good idea. Everypony I love and care about agreed.

So why did it cause so much trouble? What has the school really done, other than bring a lying, backstabbing manipulator into the fold? What benefit did the school bring? How did it protect Equestria?

All the school did was solve a problem that one of your students created.

Or maybe the school wasn’t the problem. Perhaps the problem is leadership. The headmare in charge doesn’t know how to do her job. I know how to teach-

Do you now? Do you really?

-but being a teacher and being a principal are two entirely separate fields. As recent evidence has pointed out, I am completely incapable of doing the latter. Incapable of doing the task I assigned myself. Incapable of leading the kingdom into the new era it deserves.

Face it, Twilight - you are nothing but a failure.