How Long Can You Stay Mad at a 10-Year Old?
Last week I was out walking the dog when I saw him. We were walking toward each other on the sidewalk. As the distance between us closed, I maneuvered the dog so that I would be between she and Brad as we passed. She’s an intimidating dog.
It was just as we passed that I recognized him. Even up close I was only about 80 percent sure. It was dark and we were both wearing hoodies on that cold night. It’s been years since I’ve seen him. I kept walking. Then I stopped and turned around.
Me: Brad!
Brad* stops and turns around, but doesn’t say anything.
Me: Is your name Brad?
Brad: Who are you?
Me: I said is your name Brad?
Pause
Brad: No.
Me: Yes, it is.
Brad: No it ain’t.
Me: Yes, it is. I’m Mr. Teachbad. Your fourth grade teacher at Noyes.
Relief and some confusion come over Brad’s face. We walk toward one another again.
Brad* stops and turns around, but doesn’t say anything.
Me: Is your name Brad?
Brad: Who are you?
Me: I said is your name Brad?
Pause
Brad: No.
Me: Yes, it is.
Brad: No it ain’t.
Me: Yes, it is. I’m Mr. Teachbad. Your fourth grade teacher at Noyes.
Relief and some confusion come over Brad’s face. We walk toward one another again.
So it was Brad. Wow. I really hated Brad. And feared him. It was my first year teaching. I started after Thanksgiving with a newly assembled fourth grade class at my neighborhood elementary school. It was terrible. All of it. And Brad did way more than his part.
He was the kind of kid who makes anything you try to do, anything at all, about 35% harder; all day long, every single
