What I saw and what I didn’t

I never saw the cap, not until later. But I’ll admit my prejudices: had I seen it, my reaction would have been negative, but I didn’t see it. 

What I saw was a face from my worst dreams in those years I was a young teacher, at a time when what I faced in the classroom was the possibility of a disruption that could rankle me, destroy lesson plans, and make me spit. 

Such things happened. Once upon a time, I went after a kid, ran down the row to get him. I have no idea what I would have done had I caught him, but I didn’t because he was up and out of the room and into the parking lot before I could lay my hands on him. That kid gave me that very same look, and I chased him out of the room. Didn't catch him. He was lucky. So was I probably.

Then, there was the all-sports star, bright, big personality, spoiled rotten. Never chased him out of the room because he never quite offered me that smart-ass look. But one night, alone at home preparing for classes, I realized he alone was the focus of my preparation. All I thought about was how that kid would react to what I was planning. The rest of the class didn’t matter because if I wanted something good to happen in my classroom, I had to serve up something savory to the big man on campus. Bruce could deliver the same kind of smirk.

I once coached a kid who got slapped with a technical because the ref told me he just didn’t like the his attitude. That kid I could get along with. But even though I protested that technical, I knew very well what the ref had seen on his face, the same smart ass smirk.

And then there was Mac. He wasn’t my student but in a team teaching situation, they all were. I came to deeply dislike the kid, not because he ever did anything to me but because he wore derision constantly. He was insolent always. I honestly thought him wicked. I remember telling my wife I knew a kid who someday was going to kill somebody. He had no conscience.

Those kids’ smirks I saw in the face of that kid on the national mall, a kid right out of my nightmares. Honestly, what registered in me had nothing to do with politics or Trumpism. He could have been wearing a cap with AOC woven into the brim. What I saw was an enemy in an adolescent's cheeky contempt.

People claim there’s another side to the story. The kid himself thinks of himself as a gospel-level peacemaker—or so he told NBC. The Omaha elder with the drum and the song operates a phony online charity. I've seen that. A dozen strange African-Americans called the white kids obscene names. I read it all. 

But none of that changes what I saw on the kids face. Look again. What I see still is a smart-ass smirk surrounded by the whole ugly gang from Lord of the Flies.

The kid’s a smart ass. After a lifetime of teaching, I know that look.

And then there's this. It's part of the story. The kid I called Mac, the kid I told my wife would someday kill somebody?--today, almost a half-century later--I’m not making this up—he’s my Facebook friend. 

I need to say it because that too is part of the story.