I hurt a child today. And not by accident: I got back at him for stepping on my foot. It was only when I did that nasty thing that I realized that I had done something for which I should be ashamed. And I was, thank God, ashamed.
It all started when a boy about 10 years old stepped on my foot in a dense crowd. It was unpleasant, especially since I had just cleaned my shoes this morning and they were almost new. My previous shoe was ruined by a girl who stepped on my foot in the subway with a sharp iron heel, leaving a clearly visible scratch. To swear and demand money from her, of course, was stupid, so I just threw those ruined shoes and bought new ones. But the resentment and increased attention to the safety of the new shoes remained.
It all started when a boy about 10 years old stepped on my foot in a dense crowd. It was unpleasant, especially since I had just cleaned my shoes this morning and they were almost new. My previous shoe was ruined by a girl who stepped on my foot in the subway with a sharp iron heel, leaving a clearly visible scratch. To swear and demand money from her, of course, was stupid, so I just threw those ruined shoes and bought new ones. But the resentment and increased attention to the safety of the new shoes remained.
And it spilled out onto this boy. After he stepped on my foot, didn’t apologize, and just walked on in the crowd, I got angry, sped up, and soon caught up with him. On purpose, with considerable effort I stepped on his foot, and I knew from his uncomprehending face that I had done so for nothing. The boy didn’t know why I’d hurt him with such malicious triumph on my face. I felt ashamed, very ashamed. I realized that it was not only wrong, it was stupid, to take revenge on me, a big grown-up man.
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Mr. D. You did absolutely right, absolutely right, and conscience is a matter of habit.