This morning, I waved to the little kids standing on the pedestrian bridge over Paradise Drive as I rode by, in what was to be an endearing moment of the morning. This was going to start my day just right, the warmth of a child’s smile.
Then one of them spat at me. And then a rock hit my left arm. This changed my mood.
“I’m telling your teacher!” I said, before I had a chance to consider the weight of my words.
I rolled into the school parking lot, and told the woman waiting by the yellow school buses what had happened.
“Oh no! That’s terrible!” she said, like she didn’t really mean it.
“That’s him! That’s him! The blond kid in the red jacket!” I said, as his gang of kindergarten aged thugs walked down the stairs to the parking lot.
“I didn’t do it!” he said. He was six years old and he already knew how to lie.
“I didn’t do it, either,” said a member of his posse.
“I saw Kirk do it,” said a little blond girl, the informant.
“He did it! He did it” said all the other little kids. Maybe they weren’t that bad after all.
“Kirk, that was inappropriate,” said their teacher, Mrs. Aimawimp.
“Inappropriate?” I said. “That’s assault with a deadly weapon! I could have been killed!”
“Tell her you’re sorry right now,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” said Kirk.
“You’re only sorry that you got caught!” I said. “Do you realize that if you were an adult, you could go to jail? Have you considered the implications of your dastardly deads? What if that hit me in the head? I could be dead, on the pavement. And none of you would ever know. You’d probably run over me in your big yellow school bus, and wonder what that big bump was.”
Then I noticed all eyes were on me, with mouths and eyes wide open. I decided to bid them farewell because there was nothing more I could say.