Bad Apple

Our middle and high school students attended an assembly today by a group that, basically, teaches people to be nice. Mike, the presenter, mentioned the Omaha mall shooter who felt like a loser and took average people with him as he went down. Mike said he didn't condone the shooter's actions, but he saw where the motivation could come from.

At one point in his presentation, Mike told us of a trip he chaperoned. He was near a group of high school boys at the back of a bus on its way to Florida when he heard one, an apparent idiot, say, "When we get there, we should go find some fags to beat up!" Mike wasn't surprised by that sort of thing from that student. What he was surprised, and disappointed, about was the fact that the other teens laughed. Kids who should have known better, been kinder.

Mike got up, went to the boys, and told them, "My brother's gay. He lives in Florida. You want his phone number? You want to go beat him up?" And he returned to his seat.

One by one, the teenagers went to Mike and apologized.

*I don't usually go around quoting Adolph Hitler,* Mike told us, but he had a line that fit the situation: “What luck for the rulers that men do not think.”

Not surprised by the idiot, but disappointed in the others...who didn't stand up for what they really thought. OH it bit into me!

On a daily basis, I interact with someone who can best be described with three words--two adjectives and a noun. "Hypocritical" and "gossipping" are the adjectives, and the noun, I won't say. Today's instance of agitation came after probing questions that were none of her business and shredding those who, ironically, gossip and speak poorly of others. Trying to tactfully explain something the Bad Apple was digging into, I mentioned an immigrant family I've done some interpreting for and translated notes-home for. The Bad Apple asked if the parents were going to learn English, and I pointed out that aside from the three elementary schoolers, the mother has two younger daughters at home.

"Five kids? Are you going to send home a note about birth control?"

The disgust on her face; the hard look in her eyes; sitting in judgment of all.

And all I could say was, "I don't think I know those words," in a flippant tone.

So the next time we meet, I will not fail. I will go up to the six-fingered man and say, "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." --The Princess Bride

So the next time she spouts off, I will not fail. I will turn to the Bad Apple and say, "It's too bad you missed that assembly!"

"I was there," she'll protest.

A pause.

A pointed, "Oh."

And if that doesn't work, I may ask her if she's planning to beat up some fags.