Cruel To Be Kind
All the talk about “bailouts” in the news lately reminds me of a weird episode in my life. It was the summer of 1994. I was back from college and was making ends meet by teaching tennis to children and adults at a park district in a suburb of Chicago. During one of the morning classes, “Johnny,” as I’ll call him, started spitting at the other children on my court (several instructors/courts were used during the hour-long class). I told Johnny to stop it (he wasn’t being malicious, but it was interrupting the lesson, and besides, it’s gross). Some time later, he started at it again, at which point I called him over and gave him a harsher reprimand. Johnny responded by launching one of his projectiles right at me— which connected with my arm. “Johnny,” I remember saying, “You’re done for today. Go sit outside the tennis courts. As a matter of fact, don’t come tomorrow. Because if you do, I’m not letting you back in here.”
Tomorrow came, and Johnny showed up. “You’re not coming into the compound,” I told him. He laughed, at which point I added, “You might as well go home.” After realizing I was serious, Johnny left— but returned some time later with his mother (Wup, wup, wup, clear the pad because the helicopter parent is coming in!) Johnny’s mom entered the compound, stormed onto the tennis courts (interrupting the entire class), and proceeded to chew me out in front of all the instructors and students. She pointed out that she knew all the important people in town, and I was going to be fired for “my” actions. I asked her if she was done, because she was interrupting the class. My boss, the head instructor, had to convince her to leave. She warned that this wasn’t over yet.
When word got out among the parents of the other students in class, several told me that my actions were “outstanding.” Yet, Johnny’s parents, or more so his mother (wup, wup, wup), kept pushing to have me fired. Eventually, the park district commissioner called a meeting with the head instructor, Johnny’s parents, and myself. The parents argued that their son wasn’t responsible for his actions as he had just started playing baseball recently, and was spitting because he was trying to emulate the players. You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought. The commissioner decreed that Johnny would return to class, but not on my court.
Regardless of his parents’ idiotic excuses, Johnny got the original message that I conveyed to him, and subsequently became a much better student and tennis player. As the years went by, I always wondered what happened to Johnny. I wish him the best, but I fear the worse. Time and time again, history has shown that the individual who isn’t held accountable for their actions will continue on with their reckless behavior, or even escalate it.
Despite the actions of Johnny’s parents, being “cruel to be kind” worked in this instance. Who knows, maybe it’s time people are held accountable for their actions once again? Just a thought…
Nick Lowe- Cruel To Be Kind (1979)
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