26: what not submitting to authority looks like

I work with children. One boy I especially enjoy teaching, and I like to think that he enjoys learning with me. That is, when he is allowing himself to learn.

For the first time in my very short teaching career, I have run across a child who I can (almost) shamelessly call a brat. I'm not in the habit of calling children names, but in this case, I am justified.

When I was growing up, my mom liked to differentiate between identity and behavior. So, if I had been this child, perhaps she would have said, "You are not a brat, but you are acting like one right now."

She is right. He is not a brat. But he sure is a crackerjack actor.

Since I began working with this child, I have been able to witness, in living color, what rebellion to authority looks like. It's when . . .

a child tells you that this is his house so you have to do what he says.

 

you arrive to hear the child yelling at his babysitter.

 

a child tells you you can't use the word "obey."

 

he smiles at you, and you smile back, and then he says, offended, "Don't look at me."

 

a child shakes his head, crosses his arms, and tells you emphatically that you are wrong.

 

he tells you to leave his house and never come back (fortunately, that is rare).

 

It's when a child not only ignores your greeting when you enter, but proceeds to refuse to say a simple "hi" for the next 45 minutes, until, magically, in the middle of the lesson, he turns to you and says, "Hello, Michelle! How are you?" with that endearing smile of the ghost of the promise of who he could always be if he would only give up this obsession to be the boss, to be the one in control, to not let anyone tell him what to do, no matter how simple.

 

It ain't pretty, folks.

Makes one think twice about the supposedly nicer, more civil ways I also reject authority.