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Mar. 22nd, 2015 10:39 pmA few weeks ago, Fry had got into a fight with Tommy, who had mocked his 'talking about feelings' cards. And in retaliation, he had called Tommy thick, which had ended up with him in a headlock and then Tommy with a sore nose.
Different people seemed to have had different views on this one. Dad was much of the opinion that while Fry shouldn't have said what he did, it was understandable to defend himself. Mum was much more cross about what he'd said, and had taken him to task that evening.
"For all you know, Tommy might be dyslexic like Coral and me, and you wouldn't approve if someone called Coral thick, would you?" Mum demanded, to which Fry agreed that he wouldn't. He might lack tact, but he'd defend Coral to the end of the Earth if she was being picked on.
Mum tried to get eye contact with him and had said very severely.
"You must not tell people they are rubbish at things. Otherwise when you are good at things, they will be mean to you, because you have made them feel bad about not being good at things. If you can't say something that isn't nasty say nothing at all." Then she adds. "And if I catch you telling your sisters and brother they are rubbish there will be sanctions."
Fry nodded, understanding. The Rewards and Sanctions charts are prominently displayed in the house, and Mum is the worst at thinking of punishments, like changing the password to access the internet.
He had the best of intentions.
Bradley and Tommy haven't, as a rule, been bothering him too much. And he did feel kind of bad about what he said to Tommy, especially since he spotted Tommy going to see Mr Irons the special education teacher at break, which probably means Mum was right about the dyslexia.
But early one morning, Bradley comes in using his frame, something he'd vowed he would never due at school. Fry glances at him, slightly surprised, but a little impressed that he's plucked up the courage to try it. Bradley glares at him.
"What are you staring at?" he demands.
"You said you weren't going to use your frame." Fry says.
"Yeah, well thanks to you snitching on me now I have to." Bradley snaps.
"When did I snitch on you?" Fry demands.
"You told your mum I don't use my frame, and your mum is my physio, moron." Bradley says.
"Oh." Fry says. Is it snitching when he didn't know his mum was Bradley's physio? She never told him, she isn't allowed to tell him who her patients are.
"So now I have to walk all wobbly and everyone's going to laugh." Bradley says.
"No they won't." Fry says. "Most of the class like you, or wouldn't dare laugh, and I won't laugh at you because I don't think it's funny."
Bradley looks convinced for a moment. But as he makes his rather wobbly walk across the classroom, two of the girls enter, and stare, returning Bradley to his angry, sullen demeanour.
For the first class, Fry debates how to help. He spots, half way through, that some careless caretaker has left a screwdriver behind the sink, one of the objects that most teachers know not to allow him to get hold of ever. He sidles over to the sink, and swipes it, then casually goes over to Bradley and puts it on his desk. Bradley glances at him, glaring.
"Unscrew it, then they'll let you use your chair." Fry whispers.
Bradley glances around. Nobody is within earshot. He nods.
"Thanks."
By break time, the frame has mysteriously fallen to pieces. Mrs Pink allows Bradley to use his chair again.
Different people seemed to have had different views on this one. Dad was much of the opinion that while Fry shouldn't have said what he did, it was understandable to defend himself. Mum was much more cross about what he'd said, and had taken him to task that evening.
"For all you know, Tommy might be dyslexic like Coral and me, and you wouldn't approve if someone called Coral thick, would you?" Mum demanded, to which Fry agreed that he wouldn't. He might lack tact, but he'd defend Coral to the end of the Earth if she was being picked on.
Mum tried to get eye contact with him and had said very severely.
"You must not tell people they are rubbish at things. Otherwise when you are good at things, they will be mean to you, because you have made them feel bad about not being good at things. If you can't say something that isn't nasty say nothing at all." Then she adds. "And if I catch you telling your sisters and brother they are rubbish there will be sanctions."
Fry nodded, understanding. The Rewards and Sanctions charts are prominently displayed in the house, and Mum is the worst at thinking of punishments, like changing the password to access the internet.
He had the best of intentions.
Bradley and Tommy haven't, as a rule, been bothering him too much. And he did feel kind of bad about what he said to Tommy, especially since he spotted Tommy going to see Mr Irons the special education teacher at break, which probably means Mum was right about the dyslexia.
But early one morning, Bradley comes in using his frame, something he'd vowed he would never due at school. Fry glances at him, slightly surprised, but a little impressed that he's plucked up the courage to try it. Bradley glares at him.
"What are you staring at?" he demands.
"You said you weren't going to use your frame." Fry says.
"Yeah, well thanks to you snitching on me now I have to." Bradley snaps.
"When did I snitch on you?" Fry demands.
"You told your mum I don't use my frame, and your mum is my physio, moron." Bradley says.
"Oh." Fry says. Is it snitching when he didn't know his mum was Bradley's physio? She never told him, she isn't allowed to tell him who her patients are.
"So now I have to walk all wobbly and everyone's going to laugh." Bradley says.
"No they won't." Fry says. "Most of the class like you, or wouldn't dare laugh, and I won't laugh at you because I don't think it's funny."
Bradley looks convinced for a moment. But as he makes his rather wobbly walk across the classroom, two of the girls enter, and stare, returning Bradley to his angry, sullen demeanour.
For the first class, Fry debates how to help. He spots, half way through, that some careless caretaker has left a screwdriver behind the sink, one of the objects that most teachers know not to allow him to get hold of ever. He sidles over to the sink, and swipes it, then casually goes over to Bradley and puts it on his desk. Bradley glances at him, glaring.
"Unscrew it, then they'll let you use your chair." Fry whispers.
Bradley glances around. Nobody is within earshot. He nods.
"Thanks."
By break time, the frame has mysteriously fallen to pieces. Mrs Pink allows Bradley to use his chair again.
