On being an adult.

Aioo. Jinjjah. Last class of last day and I’ve got to have this little cunt in to lecture him about how he’s almost no longer a child, he’s almost a man, and he needs to stop relying on the teacher to control him and start controlling himself. You’re not a baby. You’re in charge of your own behavior and your own choices. You don’t need someone to tell you or make you to do something. You look around at the situation, decide what is the right thing to do, and then you do it. Not the opposite. Not what makes you feel good. Not what brings you the most attention. Not what hurts another person. The right thing. Because you want to be a good man. And a good man does the right thing. Without being told, and without being made to. How hard is that?

I ask that question, and then I think about some of the adults I’ve encountered. A lot of the adults I’ve encountered. I think about what happened to a friend last night, for instance. I guess it is probably too much to ask. But my fifteen-year-old student didn’t think so. He looked ashamed of himself. I guess he’s got it together more than a lot of adults do, then. So fair play to him.

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