The Wonderful World of Touch
Come Hold My Hand
Some time ago I volunteered to teach a young people’s creative writing class at our local church. Harold, one of the young men who attended the class, was fourteen and a born troublemaker. Handsome, big for his age and very vocal, Harold made enemies without even trying, though usually he tried.
By the fifth session everyone hated him and he was well on his way to breaking up the group. For my part I was desperate. I tried everything from kindness and friendliness to anger and discipline, but nothing worked and Harold remained a sullen, disruptive force.
Then one evening he went a little too far in teasing one of the girls, and I grabbed him with both hands. The moment I did it, I realized ...