A Greenville story
Sunday, March 4, 2018
While shopping yesterday, I watched a woman with two disruptive kids. After checking out, she began pouring money into coin machines that dispense toy prizes. They were taking chances on prizes that were worth far less than the great deal of money they were spending.
Her little boy, about 4, saw a clerk walk by, and yelled to her, “Hey You!” The clerk quickly turned to him. He made eye contact, brandished a toy pistol, aimed it her, made pop, pop, pop sounds as if he were armed and presented with the opportunity to kill someone. She was lucky she didn’t die of shock.
His mother was not horrified, nor did she reprimand him. She continued to put more money in the machines and turn the knob on their destiny.
Did I just see a natural-born killer or did I see a young boy whose life experiences were creating a hapless, fretful and dangerous child?
We don’t know the rest of the story, but we know, with certainty, that this child is going to be a trying presence to his classmates and his teachers. If someone doesn’t curb him or help him, he will be the curriculum, the fulcrum, the next dangerous bully.
Children, this disoriented and dangerous, can be easily spotted through their behavior choices, the chip on their shoulders, their paradigms of understandings. Unfailingly and before long, they begin to run up their tab on the safety and well-being of others.
We, the people, can observe their clues, watch them simmer and rage, until their Parkland Big Bang(s).
Or we can we can identify them early, isolate and try to help. This will cost money and determination. We can also structure our society so their choices for mayhem can be severely limited.
The Parkland Tragedy shouldn’t be a metaphor for our society.
Alison Lord Stuart