ABSTRACT
“Come on man, you want us to be weak!” His eyes were glaring, and his face told me he was disgusted with the course of conversation the class was having, or at least with how I was attempting to guide it. At age 16, the young man I’ll call Thomas felt he was living in a war zone, and he wanted to be certain I understood that, and that my school-approved anti-violence curriculum and programming was just … well, dumb.
