Today at cram school one of the cute interns burst in my classroom and blurted out “Kenta is hiding in the carpark and won’t come out!” Kenta (7) is a somewhat temperamental boy, the only son of extremely ambitious parents. He’s very smart. I like him and he likes me, but the two of us have had our battles in the past. He has a bad habit of picking fights with teachers, storming out of class and trying to leave the premises unaccompanied, which is a big huge no-no – the kids must not ever leave the school without parental permission and a responsible adult at their side.
I dashed outside with the desperate intern and about 12 curious students in tow and we all searched the carpark, to find Kenta crouched dispiritedly between a late-model Saab and a BMW, warding off the rain with his bookbag. I gave an exasperated sigh, and held out my hand. “C’mon Kenta, let’s go inside.” To my great relief, he stood and followed me with nary a whimper, and the classes continued unhindered by his bad behaviour.
I like to think that he obeyed me out of sheer fear, but the truth is he was probably just sick of sitting outside in the rain by himself, and was worried that we would ignore him for the rest of the day (which perhaps we should’ve done to teach him a lesson). Such a stubborn little guy! Actually he reminds me of me at the same age … hence I’m quite fond of him.