On a recent Friday afternoon, driving home from work, I noticed a young man dressed in a gray and white striped prison uniform, standing on the corner of a busy intersection during rush-hour traffic. He held a sign that read, "This is my punishment for stealing."
"That poor young man," was the first thought in my head. Why? Because I know first and second-hand how cruel young people can be. I know how technology happy young people and adults are, and I wondered how long it would be before his picture was Tweeted or a video posted on You Tube. I thought ahead to Monday morning at his school, and wondered if he would be bullied. I thought even further ahead and hoped this young man was strong mentally and emotionally. Children have taken their lives over less humiliation.
My curiosity got the better of me, and I turned the car around and parked it in a lot near the intersection. Two adults stood probably 25 feet away, and I approached them, showed them my driver's license and gave them my business card. I didn't want to write a hard news story on the event. I just wanted to know their thoughts, and why they chose public humiliation as a disciplinary tool.
As it turns out, the couple was the 13-year-old's aunt and uncle. He attends a local middle school, and stole four packets of fruit snacks from the school's cafeteria. The young man did it on a dare. An accomplice asked out loud, "What's in your pocket?" As he raised his hand to pat his shirt down, a pack of the fruit snacks fell out.
"I blame myself for letting them talk me into it," he said. "I thought I probably wouldn't get caught."
"And now?" I asked him.
"I won't ever steal again," he immediately replied.
"Probably a good idea," I said. "If this was your first foray into a life of crime, it should be pretty clear that you need to choose a different career path. You're not a good thief."
His uncle laughed, and I turned my attention to the adults who prescribed the hour-long punishment. Why this? Why not just take away the video games for a month or more? Why not ground him for the remainder of the semester? And where on earth did they find the prison uniform? I touched it. It was not Halloween costume.
"It was mine," the uncle volunteered. "I spent some time in jail. His dad, my brother, is in prison now."
"We just don't want him to go down that same path," his aunt added.
"Sometimes I think it's in my genes, though," the 13 year-old said.
I'll add here that I was impressed with this young man. Not many teens would have agreed to speak with me, and this young man spoke quite eloquently. I don't know what kind of student he is. I don't know if he's popular or unpopular or falls somewhere in the middle. I don't know if he's kind or a bully. I do know he's given a lot of thought concerning his lot in life, and might figure his future is predestined.
"You have blood relatives who have made some poor choices in life, so you're just going to throw your hands up and start young, is that it?" I asked him.
"You're not a bad person," I told him. "Do you know that? You simply made a bad choice. You have the power to make choices. And your friends didn't 'talk' you into anything. You talked yourself into it, and you made the decision to steal."
"I know," he said. "I won't do it again."
He said the hour carrying the sign on the corner was long, and initially he was angry and embarrassed.
"It gave me time to think about what I did," he said.
"Were you mad and embarrassed because you know what you did was wrong, or because you got caught?" I asked.
"Honestly, because I got caught," he said. "It was so stupid."
While we talked, another lady walked up to the aunt and uncle, and praised them for their choice. I told the young man I hoped he would look back on this day fondly, and realize that it very well may be a blessing in disguise.
"Your aunt and uncle are the greatest blessing God has given you," I said. "Two people, who could have said 'No,' chose to love you, teach you, and care about your future. I hope you'll recognize that one day."
The sign and prison uniform were his punishments for stealing. I hope and pray that this 13-year-old boy will look back on the Friday afternoon as the 60 minutes that changed his life for the better.