transylvania
During our otherwise heavenly 18 months living on the remote Indonesian island of Sulawesi, my youngest son, Nathan (7 years), was struggling to stay out of trouble with his teacher in the small company-operated school. I think there were three or four kids in his third grade class.
Another kid in the class was one of those who likes to stir the pot, to provoke other kids when the teacher isn’t looking in order to enjoy watching his classmate take the heat. Nathan’s somewhat pugilistic personality was easy fodder for this closet bully’s games. He would consistently be in trouble with the (downright saintly) teacher because it was Nathan’s reactions, not the other kid’s provocations, that were getting noticed.
I came upon an idea one day and decided to tell Nathan about an “old time hockey player” named Gordie Howe. This master of deception would goad younger players with an elbow here, heal of the stick there, or even the back of a hand to the nose, etc., all when he knew the referee wasn’t looking. Oftentimes, he could provoke one of these young hotheads into taking a swing at him or to commit some other prohibited act that would land him in the penalty box and gain an advantage for Mr. Howe’s team in the form of a “power play.”
Nathan is all about the “life is a game” concept and the “spirit of play” so I suggested that the problem in school was a game and that his classmate was winning.
“Do you want to win, Nathan?”
“Yeah, Daddy, yeah!”
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