My recent car wreck reminded me of the last time I was smacked into in a parking lot. It was several years ago, at the mall. I was backing out of a parking spot when a beater car (of course) smashed into my car at what felt like 20 miles per hour. I got out of my car, and the teenage driver jumped out of his, immediately taking responsibility for what happened.
"Oh, Man. My bad."
I noted the dirty wife-beater shirt, baggy pants, cigarette, and jittery body language and said, "Yeah."
I picked up my cellphone and called the police. As we waited, "Speedy" chattered....
"I go to school across town." He looked exactly like he belonged in my EBD classroom. Had I not just had my car damaged, I might have chuckled when he added, "I'm in the Alternative Program."
What were the odds?
"Yeah, I'm in the job program, too. They let me go, so I'm looking again, but I'm sure they'll hook me up soon."
"Um, I don't suppose you have insurance?" I asked, noticing that the headlight on his piece-of-crap car was now smashed but seemed to complement the side mirror that was duct-taped to the vehicle.
"Huh? Oh, no, I don't."
"Hey, I have an idea!" "You could be really cool and let me pay you a little bit at a time; you could give me your address, and I could just send you a check every month."
Yeah, right. I'd seen that "You're-probably-stupid,-and-I'm-so-smart-you-might-believe-my-B.S." look on hundreds of kids' faces, and it almost made me laugh out loud.
The smile and "Flirt-with-the-old-lady. She-never-gets-admired-anymore-and-will-melt-from-from-the-charm" look came next,
"What? You don't trust me??"
"Sorry. I teach kids in an alternative program, and I'm not as dumb as I look."
Flattery was his next trick, "Really? That's really cool. You are probably an amazing teacher. Where do you work?"
"I think the police will be here any minute. We should probably go find our licenses and registration stuff."
Do I really need to continue the post? (I'm guessing you know how it ended.)