The other day, I stopped by my neighborhood branch of the Brooklyn Public Library. There were a lot of kids there and some of them were seated in front of internet connected computers doing whatever it is kids do on the internet.
I was standing behind one kid who was not really looking at anything in particular on the screen but was just banging the keyboard keys with his hands and elbows over and over again. Then he was karate chopping the keys, followed by a combination of karate chops, knuckle punches, and elbow jabs to the clacking plastic keyboard.
He must have felt my eyes burning into the back of his skull because he slowly turned around and looked over his shoulder at me. I gave him the stink eye of disapproval, which clearly said, “Hey kid, you better cut it out or you’re gonna break that keyboard.” and then he turned back to the computer and resumed banging on it in defiance, albeit in a slightly gentler manner, as if responding, “I’m not hurtin’ anything by doing this mister, I’m just playin’ around”.
Suddenly, one of the keys went flying off the keyboard, up into the air, and fell to the floor beneath him.
He looked horrified as he bent over picked it up, and tried not to look at me, and as I left him sitting there trying to frantically reattach the key to the keyboard, I walked slowly by him, and close enough so he would know I was watching him struggle in humiliation.
A lesson learned? I doubt it. He was probably blaming it on the keyboard, like, “Oh man, what a crappy keyboard!”
I have spent a lot of time observing the adult versions of this little dude.