Every parent’s nightmare

The following is an imagining, a parable, a tale (perhaps presumptuous) for our times.

It’s every parent’s nightmare.

The principal hates your kid.

It doesn’t make sense, It’s not rational. But there’s nothing you can do.

It may be how your kid looks, it may be some incident long forgotten to you and your kid, but not to the principal who has a memory like a bear trap.

And so the As become Bs become Cs, and the detentions proliferate and the clubs and cliques shut out your kid.

To everyone else, the principal is a stand-up guy, he’s raised the grades and the number of graduations, he stumps for money like no one else, and his name is on that shiny new stadium.

No one wants to hear about how the principal can’t stand the sight of your kid. Friends turn off. Neighbors turn away.

And so you cope and pray your kid learns self-reliance and you love him as much as you can and even more. When he wants to talk, you let him talk and talk. When he doesn’t, you stay away.

And what really kills is that he’s a really good kid, with a heart as big as a house, and kind and constantly reaching out. And trying hard, doing his homework and completing the science project, knowing it won’t get make much of a difference with this psychotic principal, at least not until you can afford to leave this mean little town and make out for a better world.

And then the real nightmare begins.

The principal calls you up. Your kid was beating on a freshman.

Not just any freshman, the principal’s kid.

The principal is trying very hard to be serious, but you can hear, you can even smell the smug, self-satisfied delight, even at the expense of his own kid: He’s got your kid to rights.

And he’s bringing out books and calling lawyers and talking about expulsions and a police record and there goes your kid’s future. He even got your cousin, the shrink — your cousin — to talk to both boys, and he tells you outright: Your kid has a serious problem. Do something before the principal makes it a lot worse.

And that’s it: The real nightmare.

Because you know everyone beats on the principal’s scrawny little kid, and the principal has always looked the other way. Hell, everyone suspects that the principal whales on his own kid.

Because you know your kid’s been singled out, and it’s unfair, and unjust, and a calumny and a travesty…

And there, across the table, sullen as a muggy night, sits your kid, not saying a word, and grunting about how the little guy had it coming to him, and he didn’t do it, and someone goaded him into it, but he really didn’t do anything.

And you know he’s lying.

This is your kid. You know he’s good, really good and he has a heart as big as a house. You’ve seen him reading to his little sister, and waking up when it’s dark to fix breakfast when you’re sick.

And you know that now, he’s lying.

The real nightmare is, you did not bring up a bully. You did not waste all that love, and worry, and time, and spit, and blood, to bring up a sullen bully.

And G-d, you hate the principal right now, because you know, you know that if he had just extended a little trust, a little kindness…

But there he is, your sullen, lying teen.

So what do you do?

Swallow hard and lie for him?

Slap him around so he’ll know a little of that terror?

Grab your keys and his hand and take him to the hospital to see his handiwork?

What do you do?

Shanah Tovah.