The previous super in our building, for instance, a large and rather slow character, turned out to hold two degrees from prestigious universities along with a licence to drive huge and intimidating trucks. The postie, who trudges along his route with a smile on his face in all weathers, was a mechanic in the Israeli air force, responsible for repairing fighter jets. Our curmudgeonly old neighbour, frustrated by the walking stick that is her constant companion, turned down the chance to be a model so that she could counsel young drug addicts instead.
It’s easy to judge a person on the face of one or two encounters. But there is always a back story that has fashioned that person into the character they are today.
I have always encouraged the kids to take an understanding approach. That bully in the playground might live with two parents at war, with constant yelling and verbal abuse. The kid with the spiteful comments might have a sibling at home who demands all the parents’ attention. The jealous teen who chips away at your confidence with carefully crafted barbs might resent your loving home life.
Child #5 came home from school one day complaining loudly about a new boy in his class. The boy is in an electric wheelchair and communicates through gestures only. #5 said this boy was mean and disruptive. #4 confirmed that this was indeed the case. (As #5 had something of a reputation for being disruptive himself, I had to suppress a smile here.)
Well, how would you like it if you lived your whole life in a wheelchair, I asked. If you couldn’t go out at lunchtime and kick a ball around with your friends? If no one invited you to parties, or just to hang out? No excuse, apparently. I told them I was disappointed at their lack of empathy, and shook my head sadly to reiterate my point.
I was in school just a few days after this conversation, helping out with a PTA event. The boy in question was powering along the corridor in his wheelchair, so I stopped what I was doing and nipped over to hold the door open for him. At which point he looked up at me, changed course … and ran over my foot.
When I told the boys about it that evening, they simply shook their heads sadly, to reiterate their point.
Inspiration struck today at ... Fika, 555 6th Avenue
From South Korean last week to Swedish today. I like this chain, despite the fact that you need to score one of the very few soft chairs if you want to stay a while. Otherwise prepare for a stiff backside or a short visit.Pros: they try hard with their marketing, for instance live bands on a Friday evening, and an app that allows you to pre-order and lets them track you in real time so that your drink is ready and waiting for you, freshly made.
Cons: you often have to wipe down the tables before you sit down – come on Fika staff, you are going to lose that A rating.
