Tonight at around 6pm, a prideful pedant–a special education teacher–sat adjacent a parent of special needs offspring.
The first proclaimed superiority by virtue of his breadth of experience teaching and/or “dealing with” children that comprise the broad realm of beings placed in special education.
The other believed his was the upper hand. He revealed, strategically over the course of the conversation, that he was the parent of two sons both of whom had special needs. The man had obviously stood toe-to-toe with special ed. teachers for decades.
The latter accused the former as having “a chip on his shoulder” and warned that anybody with such an attitude cannot make it very far under a real boss and/or “real world” accountability.
The former judged the latter as your typical “holier-than-thou” parent; the likes of which he faced every three months at parent-teacher conferences (or whatever the special ed. equivalent may be).
Being the inebriated, disinterested bystander that I was, their mutual hatred soon became evident.
Each one thought he understood the other better than they did themselves.
Opinions were flailed and then insults were thrown.
Eventually, they agreed (somewhat mutually I guess) to stop talking to each other. The only alternative that remained was to take it outside.
Neither had the balls for that.
Ten more minutes of “Lemme just say…”s followed. But gradually their conversation/altercation tapered to silence.
Both the bartender and I were as amused as we were [whatever word best captures “not-wanting-to-get-involved”].
Finally, the parent threw up his hands, paid his tab and exited with a sneer while making some veiled threat that I couldn’t quite decipher.
The teacher remained for a few minutes more. We spoke in the aftermath. He positioned himself for sympathy. I didn’t offer any.
I asked, as is the case for many of my friends who are teachers of “normal” elementary school kids, if parents are the hardest part of his job. He answered nebulously in the same manner he did with his adversary.
I nodded, pretending to understand and care about his alleged torment.
Then he left.
The bartender and I then laughed in their absence. I remarked “only in Seattle could two men (who hate each other as much as those two) agree to disagree and not come to blows.”