“I think I can do it,”the boy mumbled in that dull, beaten-down tone. I could visualize him, looking down at the table, maybe blushing. His father laughed, cruelly it seemed to me. It was a laugh that told me that he had no confidence in his son's abilities as clearly as any words could have.
“You ain't smart enough,”he told the boy disparagingly, and there was another peal of mocking laughter.
I wondered then what kind of life that boy would have. He must already have suffered enough disapproval for a lifetime. With so consistent a message that he was a failure, how could he ever be expected to succeed?