“We didn’t want Chase to be treated any differently.” She was a plump middle-aged woman, with short brown hair. She was the mother of Chase, and her husband sat beside her. They sat with Chase’s teachers, Chase himself, together with the principal and the counselor, in a meeting in the principal’s office. To summarize the last fifteen minutes, all of Chase’s teachers were struggling with his disruptive, inappropriate behavior, coupled with a lack of focus.

“I have Chase fifth period, right after lunch, and I had to send him out of the class when he suddenly let out a caw like a jungle bird as I was teaching,” Jason added.

“Where does Chase sit?” his father asked.

“I have him seated right in front of the classroom,” Jason explained.

“Don’t you think he’s going to rebel if you place him right at the front?” the boy’s father asked.

“Okay, Mr. Brandt, I’ll try moving Chase to the back of the room.” Jason wasn’t certain about the idea, but he was clear that the purpose of the school was to serve parents, who paid teachers’ salaries and entrusted their children to the school.

“It turns out Chase hasn’t been taking his medication, which he’s supposed to do at lunch, so we’re onto him about that,” Mrs. Brandt explained.

The meeting was concluded before the first bell, and Jason went to his classroom, where he was able to get in fifty pushups and crunches before class started. Why is it that parents never wanted to give their kids ADHD medication? If the kid had diabetes, or asthma, or high blood pressure, they’d give him medication, but if the kid was a disruptive asshole, suddenly they were against medication. If anything, the kid who doesn’t take his diabetes, asthma, high blood pressure, acid reflux medication, and so on, only affects himself, but the hyperactive kid who doesn’t take his medication detracts from the education of every other child surrounding him.

Jason’s problems with Chase reminded Jason of the disruptive student he finally asked, “Do you have ADHD?” Later that afternoon, the boy’s mom called, asking for an apology because her son actually had ADHD. Jason didn’t apologize. How is it offensive if he accurately diagnoses a kid’s condition? If due to the kid’s behavior, he asks if the kid has Tourette’s Syndrome, and the kid actually has it, how is that offensive? It’s just an accurate diagnosis. Well, the mom went on to explain how she didn’t want to medicate her son. “That’s just great lady, for you and your precious son,” Jason thought, “but what about the other thirty students whose education he’s disrupting? What about the teacher, who might as well be in a freak show with the Wild Child of Borneo, raised by apes in the jungle?”

Chase’s parents didn’t want their son to be stigmatized, but the kid had a long history of disruptive, inappropriate behavior throughout his elementary school years, and they thought he was going to enter high school and suddenly everything would be different? In the minds of today’s helicopter parents, the problem isn’t that their kid talks, is out of his seat constantly, and doesn’t pay attention, but the problem lies with teachers, who are so quick to judge their Little Johnny Precious, and are “out to get him.”

Later that afternoon Jason moved Chase to a seat at the back of the room to honor his father’s suggestion, but the kid was soon talking to everyone around him, just as Jason was conjugating “comer” and “escribir” on the blackboard. Jason was right, that Chase needed to be right next to him, within arm’s length, or the kid was out of control, talking non-stop, inattentive, and constantly into some kind of trouble. “Sorry, Mr. Brandt, I tried it, but your idea didn’t work.”

If Chase was disruptive, and exhibited challenging behavior, at least he was a decent kid. The toughest kids were those who were nasty. They really hated Jason, or “Mr. Whitlock,” and didn’t make any attempt to hide it. There was the kid who decided that he didn’t like Jason or his Spanish class, so he was talkative and loudly mocked Jason and the class. Then the kid’s dad suffered a heart attack and died shortly afterwards. Jason didn’t feel any sympathy—none. You couldn’t be an asshole to Jason, constantly ridiculing him and the class, then expect him to feel sadness when you were struck by tragedy. It seemed to Jason that the kid had been served a big dose of karma.

There was also the student, a senior, who was in Jason’s class a year ago, always acting like he had a chip on his shoulder. He was an irritating, unlikeable student, and one day when Jason was struggling with the kid’s attitude, the young man said something to the effect of “Fuck you, you dick.” Jason sent the kid to the office, and the principal pulled him from the class. Later, the kid borrowed a gun and committed suicide a week before graduation. Try as he might, Jason couldn’t feel any sympathy for the kid, nor the slightest bit of sadness. The kid was a bitter, nasty asshole, and the world was a better place without him. People would protest that it wasn’t a nice thing for Jason to say, but by their words and actions, people create a reality, and the truth is that there’s a little less ugliness in the world when certain people die.

Jason wondered if teaching was turning him into a callous bastard, but he thought of the sweetest former student, Darcy. She was nice enough to warn him before class that a couple of the girls were going to set him up with a question to trip him up, and secretly record him with their cellphones. Luckily, because Jason knew what they planned, he avoided the trap, which could have caused him trouble, or even lost him his job.

Then one Monday morning an unplanned faculty meeting was called, which almost always meant that something bad happened during the weekend. Sure enough, Darcy’s father and his friend went deer hunting and the two men separated. The other man, whose daughter was also in Jason’s class, saw movement in the brush and fired, fatally shooting Darcy’s father. Jason felt so sad for the girl, who was the kindest, sweetest kid ever, and wondered how she coped with that kind of a crushing loss, especially at such a young age.

Jason didn’t know what to say to her, until one day he pulled Darcy aside after class. He handed her a box of chocolates. “Sorry if I haven’t said anything about your father’s death. I haven’t known what to say. I never knew your father, but you’re a testament to the kind of man that he must have been. It’s been hard for me, because you’re a wonderful student and person, and it hurts to see this happen to you.”

Jason hoped he said the right thing. It was students like Darcy who made teaching worthwhile. And students like Charlie, who was bright, creative, and wrote amazing stories, or Ben, who entertained the class by acting out a scene from The Monkey’s Paw in a Scottish accent. There was Allison, the shy girl who had actually written a play for the school’s drama club, as well as a book, and returned to the school after graduation with copies of her novel. There was also Cory, whom Jason mentored in magic.

As Jason pulled up to the apartment, he saw his grandfather’s car on the curb, and wondered why he was there. Jason got out of the car and entered the apartment—Grandpa had a key and let himself in. “What’s the occasion?” Jason asked.

“Look at your watch.” His grandfather pointed to Jason’s wrist.

“What’s with the 1K?” Jason wondered aloud. It wasn’t in the wealth column, but floated above the middle figure, which was something like “cash on hand,” or the amount of money he had in the bank at the moment.

“That’s your emergency fund, one thousand dollars.” Grandpa returned from the kitchen with two tall Keystone Lites, one of which he handed to his grandson. Gramps sat down on the couch and popped open his beer with a hiss. “It’s not in the wealth column, because it’s just a reserve. The problem is that most Americans don’t have a thousand-dollar reserve fund, and would be hard-pressed to come up with a thousand bucks if they needed it. You hit the thousand dollars in your savings with an auto-deposit following your latest paycheck.”

Jason sat down on his recliner. “You know, it’s crazy, but that twenty dollars I have in the wealth column in the game feels really good, like I’ve got a safety net, or some kind of clout I can access.”

“Exactly,” his grandfather beamed. “That emergency fund is your fallback when something goes wrong, because it will go wrong. Keep in mind that money in your reserve fund isn’t in case you want a new gun, or a stereo, or a jacket that’s on sale at Macy’s. That money is for when your tires go out, or you need a new transmission or a new car. Or find yourself in the hospital, or needing to hire a lawyer. Instead of racking up debt, you have your emergency cash fund.”

“I think I’m starting to see your point, how all this time I had money in the bank on payday, but when that ran low, I had nothing to back it up.” Looking back on his life, it seemed crazy to Jason to live without some kind of financial reserve, but how long had he lived without a safety net, and thought nothing of it?

“Once, when I was living in Idaho, the winter had just started, but after a couple of days we noticed that the house was cold, and wasn’t getting any warmer.” His grandfather leaned back on the couch and looked upward as though recalling a memory. “The repairman came out and installed a new motor in the furnace. When he was done, the bill came out to $800, but I didn’t have the money. I had maybe $200 in cash, and we tried the credit card, but I didn’t have enough credit to make up the difference. I asked the guy if he could extend me credit. I’d done thousands of dollars in business with this company over the years in both heating and aircon for the house. The repairman called his boss, but no dice. He then started to take out the motor he’d just installed. I was screwed: Idaho winters are brutal, and what were we going to do without heating?”

Grandpa paused in his story and took a sip of his beer. “The guy must have felt sorry for me—he could see the predicament I was in. He told me, ‘Watch me as I take this out.’ I watched and took notes as he walked me through the whole process. I then bought a motor online with the cash I had, and installed it myself. Amazingly, it worked. But I could have saved myself a whole lot of trouble and misery if I’d had an emergency fund.”

Grandpa stood up and waved for Jason to follow. The two of them walked down the hall to a linens closet. Gramps opened the door and pointed to the interior wall. “Look!”

Jason saw the red appliance on the wall, right at eye level. IN CASE OF EMERGENCY BREAK GLASS. The red case had a glass window, where Jason could see a stack of hundred-dollars bills neatly folded inside. On the side of the red casing sat a mallet to break the pane of glass.

“That’s from me,” Grandpa said. “A little bonus. You want to keep it out of sight so no one outside the apartment sees it and tries to steal it, but you’ve got a thousand-dollar cash reserve right there.”

“Wow, thanks,” Jason patted his grandfather on the back. “That gives me peace of mind.”

“Me, too,” his grandfather confided. “I don’t want to have to worry about you.”

The two of them went back to the living room and sat back down.

“The other, unseen advantage of the thousand-dollar emergency fund,” his grandfather began, “is that it’s a baby step. It’s a way to begin learning financial principles, like cutting back on expenses, saving money, having financial goals. If you can do that—focus on a financial goal and discipline yourself to reach it—then you’re learning a basic building block that you can add onto, and become wealthy.”

“I sure hope so,” Jason replied. He began to grasp a basic point, one that seemed screamingly obvious, but he’d been blind to it. Having money was better than not having money. Having money as a backup created a feeling of security. But there was something that was bothering him. “You know, with regard to teaching, I have students I like, and some who are troublesome, and I do okay. But the really hateful students bother me. I find it hard not to bring it home, and not to worry about it when I’m not at school. Am I doing something wrong?”

Grandpa took a deep breath. “No, I’m afraid you’re like me, and like my grandfather, who was an alcoholic. The stereotype of the alcoholic is that he’s an insensitive bastard who doesn’t give a damn about anybody else. In my grandfather, and in my friend Ed, another alcoholic I knew, I saw the opposite: guys who were very sensitive, whose feeling were easily hurt, so they drank to cope.”

“Am I an alcoholic?” Jason asked.

“No, I don’t think so, but I see that same sensitivity in you. Buddhists would say that all suffering comes from the fact that you care. If you could stop caring, you wouldn’t suffer.” Grandpa folded one leg over the other and stretched his arm over the couch. “I had an administrator in mind for you, but I think there’s a better route. I think education is a toxic atmosphere for you, and the sooner you get out of there, the better off you’ll be.”

“I didn’t want to say anything, but you’re exactly right, Gramps,” Jason confided. “I want to get out.”

“Keep that in mind,” Grandpa told him with a fierce light in his eyes. “From now on, every financial step we take, you’re working your way out of teaching, so you’ll be free.”

Jason loved the idea of being free of teaching. “Oh, I almost forgot. The other night I had a gold ribbon flash on my watch, then I got a sap. What was that all about?”

“Sorry, I forgot to tell you,” his grandfather said with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. “It’s a new feature. As a bonus, we’re going to throw in some goodies. Some of them are simply prizes, tools like new weapon, which you have to learn to use, while others are talismans, which have special powers. When you have a bonus, you’ll get the ribbon notification on your watch, and any special instructions or labels that come with the goody will only be visible to you—to everyone else, they’ll just look like receipts or an invoice.”

Now Jason had some lunges, pushups, and jump rope to do, plus his kettlebell workout.

Grandpa got up and went to the door. “I’m really proud of you, Jason. You hit an important milestone today. Trust me, it will pay off in the game tonight.”

* * *

Jason looked at his watch, and sure enough, a gold ribbon was displayed on the game section of his watch.

The ribbon on the watch lit up just as there was a knock on the door to his room. Jason got up and opened the door, where he was met by a stout man with black and silver hair and a matching beard, holding what resembled a wooden cigar box. There was Jason’s latest bonus, and the suspense was killing him.