Saturday, November 10, 2012
11:10 a.m. Rock Lesson
I’ve mentioned, in the past, that I live kitty-corner from a small Catholic elementary school. They’re good neighbors.
Since school commenced, at the end of August, a couple of young girls have been chaperoning home a kindergartner boy who evidently lives in my neighborhood, though I am uncertain quite where.
Everyday, at 11:10 a.m., I see these three youngsters jaywalk from the street corner of the school to the spot which you see in the above photo. Though I technically do not own the parkway where the kids cross to, I do with it what I will, and because grass has never taken firm hold, I’ve put in gravel, pavers, chunks of bark, and here and there rocks which I’ve picked up in my wanderings.
Anyway, as soon as the kids crossed the street, I would see that kindergartner boy kick over the rock you see in the photo. Though this somewhat annoyed me, and also made me inwardly softly chuckle; I’ve not forgotten mine own boyhood; I never did anything about it. First, because it’s just a rock, secondly because the young girls chaperoning the boy home would set the rock back up, while the boy slyly smiled, and lastly because most times by the time I saw what was going on, and made to step outside to talk to the young boy, the three were already further down the street than I cared to traverse in order to address this behavior. But not yesterday.
Yesterday, I pointedly made ready for the 11:10 a.m. visit, and as soon as I saw this young boy kick over the rock, I stepped onto my porch and conversationally, but authoritatively, said, “Hey there, young man, why do you kick over my rock everyday?” My calling out startled them all, but especially the young boy, who turned to me with eyes wide, and looking slightly frightend.
The boy had not a word to say, in response to my question, hardly even a shrug of his shoulders, so in an attempt to diffuse any fear he may have been experiencing, and also to include the boy’s chaperones in my lesson, I informed the boy that I wasn’t mad at him for kicking over the rock, but just wanted to know why he thought it was funny to kick over my rock everyday. The boy had no response once again, and his chaperones were also silent, though all were watching me intently. The only time I received a response from the boy, was when I asked him if he would like it if I came over to his house and kicked over something of his, to which he solemnly shook his head no. I also informed him that he should respect not just my rock, by not kicking it over, but also every other person’s property. When I asked if he understood, he just as solemnly nodded his head yes, eyes still rather wide.
I then said to them all that they should probably be on their way, and I think they firmly agreed, because they ran down the street just as quick as their legs could carry them.