Teacher Abuse is Abuse
I got my first bachelor pad in my hometown way back in July of 1990. It was awesome. A studio apartment directly behind an IHOP, at a main intersection, shops within walking distance, and best of all a Metro-North station a quarter of a mile walk.Being a groovy single guy the other married men with families on my floor lived somewhat vicariously through me. They thought I was cool. I didn't think they were. Not 100% true, there was one dad who almost turned me off to getting married and having children.
Jughead and Big Ethel lived diagonally across the hall from me. They had a 2 bedroom. Both were portly and ugly as sin. However, the had a gorgeous toe-headed little boy named Reggie. Back in 1990 Reggie was about 4 years old.
Anyway, and I got this second hand, when Reggie was born, Big Ethel suffered from sever post-partum depression to the point where she was hospitalized. Which is an explanation, I think, of what I am about to share.
Being that Reggie was an only child, Reggie bore the brunt of everything, good and bad, in their home. Sadly, from what I heard and saw, in person, in the hallway, and in my apartment with my door closed sitting outside on the balcony while blasting Rush, was not right.
Reggie was a handful and cried and had tantrums quite a bit. Every time he cried and/or threw a tantrum I would hear from either Jughead or Big Ethel, or both, yelling at Reggie, "IF YOU DON'T STOP