The little heathen

N has been behaving abominably in kindergarten of late, losing his super star seven out of the past ten days. (The behavioral consequences in his classrom go like this: First offense, your name goes on the board; second offense, your name gets a W for warning; third offense and you lose your super star. A dozen super stars equal a trip to the gift box on Ms. F's desk.)

It's not only that he's been losing his super star, but that, as Ms. F says, it's almost like he's been DARING her to take it away. And he's not being very respectful. Frustrated by the lack of impact both positive and negative reinfocement has been having, I wrote to Ms. F the other day and task for some suggestions. She gave me a few, but basically said that all the kids in the class were acting out as the year winds down, and signed off by saying, "Good luck with the little heathen!"

I upped the ante today and basically told N not to come home from kindergarten if he didn't have a super star in his pocket. (OK, I didn't say it like that, but that's what I meant.) So, of course, when he came to me from the classroom today, all smiles, and announced, "Guess what I lost today? My super star!" I was ready to strangle him.

I went over to Ms. F to hear about today's transgressions, heard the litany, then said, "That's it. If he doesn't shape up, I'm just going to have to sell him."

Ms. F looked at me with a mixture of understanding and pity. "You know what though?" she said. "If you put him up on the block, I'd probably have to make you an offer for him."

And that, in a nutshell, is the story of N. An irresistable scallywag.