At night, mistakes aren’t accepted, ever. Once a child is two or three, they are expected to perform correctly, or they are brutalized. This continues into adulthood.
2: 35 The session is almost over and the subject is recovering. The medication is quick acting and he will recover in time to drive home. I leave him in the care of the younger trainer and go to the coffee room to take a break. There I smoke a cigarette and having coffee with the other trainers. During the day, I have never smoked and coffee makes me ill, but here, at night, it is completely different.
“How’s your night going?” Jamie, a friend, asks. I only know her as Jamie, it isn’t her real name, but we all go by our nicknames at night. She is also one of the teachers at the school during the day, but we aren’t friends there. “Slow. I had to correct another stupid kid,” I say. I am not kind at night, because no one has ever been kind to me. It is a very dog- eat-dog and political atmosphere where the cruel win.
“How about you?” I ask. She grimaces. “I had to march some brats around”, she says, referring to military exercises with children ages 8 to 10. Every night there are military exercises, because the group is preparing for the eventual takeover. The children are divided into groups by age, and different adults take turns teaching. We chat for a few minutes, and then go back to our “jobs”.
2: 45 This is a short session. It is a “tune up” for a member who is one of the military leaders. I take his profile out and review it before starting. The head trainer and one other trainer are working with me.
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