9th Avenue

In first grade I punched my brother in the gut and
the following week I broke a plate. My parents
arranged a session with the school therapist. On
Monday morning I was summoned from class and
shown to her office.

I thought we were going to talk about a
punishment for me but she wasn't interested.
Instead she asked me to tell her what happened.
I said that my brother was gloating over a
boardgame and my mom forced me to wash dishes
out of turn.

"So you were provoked," she said gently.

Yes.

This answer pleased her. It meant that I was
not berserk. Maybe unreasonable, but at least
rational.

Together we would find other ways to express
my frustration.


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