Where's the Love?

Two women walk into the room to survey the scene. One is young and petite while the other is older, taller, and a little plump. A table lies upside down on the floor with chairs tipped over and papers scattered. The young woman is the mother but the elder, which is the grandma, clearly has more authority in their household. The girl can't be more than 25 and the grandmother no more than 45. The child who created the mess sits in a chair a little ways off crying as he waits for them to come. The mother stands back and lets her mother take charge. Once the grandmother questions the boy, he looks around nervously as if not knowing what to say. At first the conversation between them is pleasant. No threats are made and all seems pleasant. Maybe this family is different than the other single mothers who live in the city. "Remember how I said I would embarass you in front of your friends if I was called to the school again?", she tells the boy, "Well it's a good thing they're not here cause you have it coming to you." Apparently not so different after all. My heart raced and feared for this child as I watched the situation turn. I could sense that once the child left the school he was most likely going to 'get it and get it good'. I wanted to cry for him and just hug him; let him know that there was someone who really cares about him. But I couldn't. Yes, his actions were inappropriate and deserved discipline of some kind. But the kind I had a feeling he was going to get, was not the good kind. As the grandmother walks down the hall with the child at her side and the mother tagging along behind, threats and harsh words are started to be spoken to him telling him of his fate. And yet the teacher wonders why he has no respect for adults. She can't figure out what could be going on inside his head that would make him burst out in rage and flip a heavy table over. My diagnosis - a lack of unconditional love.