STG BOY & DEALING WITH THUGGERY

STG Boy jumped the service counter and put his hands in my cash-register—not really, but close enough—it’s how I reacted, how I felt about the situation; There wasn’t a service counter, only a well thought out barrier of tables, and the till wasn’t a till at all, it was a desk drawer where I store prisoner ID’s when they borrow pencils for class assignments. STG Boy thought he had made a name for himself; he’s classified under “Security Threat Group.” He’s a gang-banger, a Latin King or Count or whatever. He has tattoos on his face. He’s young.

I had the school officer escort him from the building, no handcuffs required. The teacher across the hall watched from a safe distance. “You’re not writing him a threatening behavior ticket?” she asked.

“No,” I answered.

A day later the teacher across the hall asked if I had any volunteers to help iron graduation gowns for an upcoming ceremony.  I sent her two students. I sent her STG Boy. She asked, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“No,” I answered. “But his prison clothes are clean and pressed and I told him that it’s penance for what he did the other day.”

I had heard that he had done an exceptional job.