Oh, goodness gracious, no!
But I actually feel sorry for my mother.
I wasn't a "bad kid," per se. Nor was I the most wonderful child a parent could ask for. Mostly I was quiet, unassuming, antisocial and stubborn to a serious fault. I didn't like school much, my grades were barely passing, and if I had a choice between going out and running around with friends, or sitting on the couch reading a book - I would invariably choose the later.
One of my mothers favorite tales of woe ("whoa?") was of me in the 5th grade. Mr. Wilson was my teacher, and the most memorable thing I can tell you about him was that he used to be a professional NBA player, and was very tall. Whether or not he was a good teacher, I would not be able to say. I will give him credit, he certainly tried.
("He tried and failed?" "He tried and died...")
As my mother tells it, Mr. Wilson had recognized that "stupid" was not a word that could be used to describe me, but "lazy" sure was. And so he was dead set and determined to make sure that I did my classwork and excelled in school. And how he was going to do that was by sitting after school with me until I finished my homework.
Mind you, I lived within a stones throw of the school. Riding a bike was never an option, certainly not riding the bus. Because my mom could stand in our side yard and see me playing in the playground. So, when 7pm rolled around one fateful evening and I still hadn't shown my face after school, my Mom walked on down to see what was going on.
What she found was a stare down of immense proportions. There I was, sitting in my desk at the back of the room - GLARING - at my teacher, and Mr. Wilson was at his desk with a look that acknowledged defeat. He had been out-stubborned by a 5th grader. Mom laughed on the inside, gave Mr. Wilson her sympathies (she knew what he was in for, even if he didn't), and took me home to have supper and then go to bed.
And now, here I am. I'm 38, and my 10 year old son is many things. Stupid is nowhere on that list, but lazy sure as hell is. And so is stubborn. Thankfully, he's lost the few "stubborn-off's" he's had with me, so I'm a bit thankful that the attitude appears to have been diluted somewhat by his fathers even keeled nature. Kiddo is now in the 5th grade, and I see him having some of the same problems that I had at that age.
The problem being, while I honestly didn't care if anyone liked me or not, Kiddo really does, and it's lead him into some problems.
And I worry about him, and I understand how my mother felt when I was young.
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