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The Student News Website of Francis Howell North High School.
The Collector Store

FHNtoday.com

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Tales of a Child Delinquent [Personal Column]

Tales+of+a+Child+Delinquent+%5BPersonal+Column%5D
Credit to Drew Johnson and Chase Pray

I, Violet Newton, may have been just about the most manipulative child in the Midwest.

It all started when I realized the power I held in my Pre-K classroom. One day I told a group of my closest friends that I would be having a party that night and they could all be invited if, and only if, they followed two simple rules:

1. They were to no longer like horses (this was particularly devastating for the girl whose entire stationary set was horse-themed).

2. They absolutely could not use the word cute.

They fell for my devious scheme and adhered to my rules. Unfortunately, for them, there was in fact no party, just an oddly petty 4-year-old.

In another instance, the following week I was playing with the toy dinosaurs with my very best friend. Unfortunately for her, there was one wooden dinosaur mixed into the other plastic dinosaurs. So, as anyone would do, I ordered her to take the wooden one and take it home because there was simply no other option as it didn’t fit in with the rest.

Poor Mackenna shoved the dinosaur into her backpack, everything was perfect. The dinosaurs were sorted correctly, and everyone was bending to my will – until her mom went through her backpack that night and found the dinosaur. She grilled Mackenna about where it was from. But Mackenna knew better than to blame me and ended up taking the blame and writing the teacher an apology note.

I had learned how to get anything I wanted. I had acquired the trust of my poor teacher and unsuspecting parents. I had learned how to control my entire peer group. The one thing I was missing was power over my 2-year-old brother.

I plotted and schemed for days, and eventually perfected my most devious tactic yet. I had thought through my plan perfectly. So when he spilled my juice on the carpet, I finally put it into motion. I bit my arm until you could see a mark, ran up to my mom in fake tears, and tattled on him. She asked him if he had done it and he said “Yes” as he didn’t exactly understand the concept of yes and no yet.

It worked. From beginning to end.

I did this over and over and over, getting him in trouble as soon as he upset me. However, all good things must come to an end. I got too cocky, too caught up in my magnificent manipulative glory. I enacted my plan for the 30th time except unlike the first 29 times, Mom saw me biting my arm. It all ended with me stuck behind the jail cell bars that were my door.

Just like that, my rise to power was over.

Just like that I returned to being just another 4-year-old.

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