The Kid

While I was waiting to pick up Colin and Erin at the high school the other day I watched the man in front of me get out of his truck and begin to yell, with arms waving and his face completely red. At first I couldn't tell who he was yelling at, but I was pretty sure it wasn't me. Then I saw him. This nice-looking kid who was about Colin's age was walking out of the school with his backpack on and his hands in his pockets. He had his head down. This was who the guy in front of me was yelling at. This supposed adult was throwing quite a fit, waving his arms and stomping his leg. Then he got back in the truck and revved it up. The kid just kept walking with his head down. The adult then got back out of the truck and proceeded to throw another fit. He was yelling at the kid to hurry. He sprinkled his tirade with expletives and some name-calling. I started feeling sick for the kid. I didn't even want to look at him. But of course I did. He walked right by my car and would you believe he had the most serene look on his face. When he got to the car he took his backpack off before he got into the back cab of the pickup and this brought on another little fit from the front seat. The adult turned around and started yelling at the kid, only this time I couldn't hear it. I was thankful. I got the feeling he wasn't asking him about his day. I felt like crying for the kid, except I kept picturing that serene look, as if he was used to it. That didn't actually make me feel much better. It also didn't make me feel better to realize that this person had no problem acting this way in public. What, can we assume, goes on inside the four walls of the house?
I don't mean to imply that I've never lost it with my kids or that I've never yelled at them. But I will say I've never berated them in public or in private. I try to choose my words carefully, because abuse isn't just limited to the physical. If I had witnessed that man pounding his fists into his son, I would have called the authorities. But what was going on verbally could be just as damaging. Maybe the kid had some kind of defense mechanism that allowed him to close his ears (his heart?) to what was going on around him. Hard to know if that's a good thing or not. Should we report people who are screaming at their kids in public? Should we confront them? Would it do any good?
All I know is that when my two teenagers got into the car that day, the first thing I told them was that I loved them. They looked at me funny, and it didn't make up for what I had just seen, but it seemed like the right thing to do. I can only hope that kid has someone in his life who chooses to say those words every now and then.